


Reader's Special: Third Edition

by Disasteriffic_Kaz



Series: The Reader's Special Marathon [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Caring, Case Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 58,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Disasteriffic_Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post 1x17 “Hell House”- This is the Reader's Special. Each chapter of this story was prompted by reader participation, weaving multiple prompts into a single chapter for a cohesive story over all. It's Literary Yoga and makes for a hell of a rambling adventure. Read and enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The events of the Reader's Specials are prompted almost entirely by my readers. After each chapter, they review with what they would like to see happen in the next chapter. I then take those prompts, however many there may be and work them together into a single chapter and have it all fit in with the overarching storyline I use as a base to work from. My own personal prompt apocalypse and I love every challenging minute of it. :D
> 
> If you would like to tool through the original reviews and see all the prompts in their entirety, visit fanfiction.net and click the 'Reviews' to sort by chapter.  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8784380/1/Reader-s-Special-Third-Edition

Sam jerked awake to the sound of ringing and looked blearily around the motel room. “Dean?” He pushed up on his elbows and heard the shower running. Dean’s cell phone rang again on the nightstand and Sam grabbed it, flipping it open.

“Hello?” Sam waited but there was no sound. He lowered the phone to look at the display and felt the familiar surge of irritation. It was a text message from their father containing only a set of coordinates. “Dammit, Dad,” He said softly and flopped back into the pillow. He understood why they had parted ways again but he still didn’t like it. He ran a hand absently over the now healed wounds from the Daevas on his face and sighed in defeat.

“Alright, Dad.” Sam groaned and rolled out of the bed. He looked over at his laptop and decided coffee was more important than whatever hunt Dad had for them. He pulled on his sneakers and his jacket, defense against the early morning Missouri chill and headed for the motel office in his sweat pants.

Dean finally emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and found Sam hunched over his laptop cradling a cup of coffee with one hand and reading. “Little early for research, Sammy. You better have one of those for me.” He pointed to the coffee.

Sam smiled and nodded. He slid a second cup out from the side of the laptop for him. “Dad sent us coordinates.”

Dean froze in the act of picking up the coffee. “Did he actually call or…”

“Just the text.” Sam shrugged and bit his tongue to not say the things he usually thought. He didn’t want to start the day by pissing off Dean again. “Apparently, we’re going to Boone, North Carolina after something that’s eviscerated a few locals, couple tourists and there’s even one witness account about a man being ‘carried away’ in the night.” Sam leaned back and raised his brows. “As in, whatever it is flew away with him.”

“Huh. We know any hungry flying monsters?” Dean went and pulled a clean shirt out of his duffel and set his coffee aside long enough to pull it on. “Other than the Purple People Eater.”

Sam chuckled. “No, and I’ve been looking. Could be a few different things.” He closed the laptop and slid it into its bag. “We need to have a look at the bodies and the crime scenes before I can get a better idea.”

“Well come on, college boy. Let’s get packed and shag ass East.” Dean grinned and started shoving things into his bag. “We got things to kill.”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_To Be Continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_"Huh. We know any hungry flying monsters?" Dean went and pulled a clean shirt out of his duffel and set his coffee aside long enough to pull it on. "Other than the Purple People Eater."_

_Sam chuckled. "No, and I've been looking. Could be a few different things." He closed the laptop and slid it into its bag. "We need to have a look at the bodies and the crime scenes before I can get a better idea."_

_"Well come on, college boy. Let's get packed and shag ass East." Dean grinned and started shoving things into his bag. "We got things to kill."_

**_CHAPTER 2_ **

Dean drummed his hands on the steering wheel as they drove in time with Metallica blasting from the speakers and turned a grin over to his brother. “Lighten up, Sammy!”

Sam rolled his eyes and went back to the book in his lap, still trying to narrow down what creature they were after. “I’m light enough thanks.”

Dean shook his head, amused and turned the music down a little. “Our job have a name yet?”

Sam shook his head. “I really don’t think I’ll be able to tell until we see the bodies. Wish Dad had given us a name for this thing.”

“Purple people eater.” Dean nodded and smirked. “Mothra?”

Sam groaned. “Dude, I’m trying to research here. Not helping.”

“Am too.” Dean chuckled and turned the music back up. “Birdzilla!” Sam ignored him so he turned the music up another notch. “Ooh! How about the Flying Spaghetti Monster? That dude gets around.”

“Please shut up?” Sam rubbed his forehead at the headache brewing there and resisted the urge to slap some sense into his big brother. There was no dealing with him when he was in one of these moods.

“Wait. Wait. I know.” Dean glanced over with another grin. “It’s a Nazgul!”

“Dude!” Sam slapped the book closed and groaned. “Ringwraiths didn’t fly, dumbass.”

“They flew those giant lizard things so…they flew. Technically.” Dean laughed at the look of disgust on Sam’s face. “So there.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Sam gave up and gave in to the need for sleep. He rolled over with his head against the window and did his best to ignore the loud music and laughing brother beside him.

“Bitch,” Dean said cheerfully and went back to beating out a tattoo on the steering wheel with the music. He picked the cup out from between his legs and sucked the last of his soda through the straw with a noisy slurp. He saw Sam studiously ignoring him and pretending to sleep and decided he needed to break the grumpy, stoic Sam exterior. He popped the lid off the cup, gave the ice a jiggle and smirked. Dean held the cup out over his brother, angling it just right and upended the wet remains of the ice over Sam where his hoodie gaped open at his neck.

Sam shouted in shock as watery ice cascaded down inside his hoodie with Dean laughing maniacally. “Dammit, Dean!” He shouted and shot upright, yanking the fabric out to let the ice scatter over the seat. “What the hell?” His whole body shivered once, hard and his head started pounding in time with his temper.

Dean laughed and slapped his damn shoulder. “Told ya to loosen up, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam!” Sam growled and stripped the hoodie off over his head then looked disgustedly down at his wet t-shirt beneath it. “Dammit, pull over so I can get a dry shirt out of the trunk.”

“I dunno.” Dean shook his head sadly and smiled. “You _are_ a wet blanket. Now you look it.”

“Dean, one of these days I’m gonna…” Sam’s eyes widened fearfully and he slapped his hands out to the dash. “DEAN!”

Dean looked ahead and just saw the blur of something large and brown in the road. “Shit!” He swerved, yanking the steering wheel to the side and the car screeched off to the side of the road with an ominous thump. “Holy crap!”

“Oh my god.” Sam frantically undid his seat belt and opened the door. “I think we hit him.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean took a moment to just breathe and then panic hit him. “Shit. Shit!” He threw himself out of the car and scrambled around to the front.

“Dean? Dog’s over here!” Sam called and turned to watch as his brother ran to the front of the Impala and knelt in front of it. He rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“Oh Baby, I am so sorry!” Dean ran a hand over the hood and down to the corner of the fender where a new dent graced the chrome. “Buff that right out, Baby. I swear.”

“Dude! Priorities!” Sam shouted and bent to the dog beside him. “Hey boy.” He ran a hand gently through its dark brown hair and scratched behind an ear as it looked up at him with a whine.

Dean finally stood from his examination of his car and went to stand over his brother. “Mutt gonna live?”

“He’s not a mutt,” Sam said and rolled his eyes. “Looks like a Golden Retriever maybe. We have to take him to a vet.” He looked up to Dean meaningfully and waited. It only took a moment.

“Whoa. Wait a minute.” Dean raised his hands and backed up a step. “We are not putting mangy dog in MY baby!”

“We hit him, Dean,” Sam said softly and nodded down at the animal. “We can’t just leave him out here. We owe him. Please, Dean?”

“Oh for…” Dean growled and scowled down at the dog. It looked up at him with sorrowful eyes and he threw his arms out in defeat. “Fine. Can’t believe I’m putting a dog in my car.” He grumbled but bent and helped Sam lift him with gentle hands, careful of shifting him too much when the dog whimpered again.

“Easy boy,” Sam soothed as they slid him into the back seat. He climbed in beside the dog and kept a hand on his head.

Dean got behind the wheel and eased the car out of the ditch. He did feel guilty as hell for hitting the dog. Even worse was the knowledge of how it would hurt Sam if the dog died. He was such a softie and had always wanted one. It had been that little piece of normalcy the youngest Winchester had always craved and that Dean had never been able to give him. He looked at the dog’s head, resting in his brother’s lap in the rearview mirror and silently begged it not to do that to them; to stay alive.

Dean sped into the nearest town and, after a stop at a gas station for hurried directions, found the nearest veterinary clinic and helped Sam carry the dog inside to the waiting attentions of fawning nurses.

“He’ll be fine, Sammy,” Dean assured him with a hand on his shoulder as the dog was carried away from them.

“We have to stay.” Sam headed over to a row of plastic chairs and dropped into one. He looked up at Dean with his best stubborn face in place.

Dean sighed and nodded. He’d known that was coming and went to sit next to him. “Yep. I figured.”

It was barely a half hour later when an ageing, silver haired man in a white coat came out to find them. “Are you the boys who brought in the Retriever?”

“Yes, sir.” Sam stood and smiled, offering his hand. “Sam. This is my brother, Dean. How is he?”

“Oh he’ll be fine.” The Veterinarian smiled. “I’m Doctor Osham. He just has some deep tissue bruising on his left hip. With a little time he’ll be back to his old self. You can take him home in a little while once the pain killers we’ve given him take effect.”

“Oh, uh…he’s not ours.” Sam smiled sheepishly with a sideways glance at Dean.

“He ran out in front of our car,” Dean explained and looked a little uncomfortable admitting to his fault in the accident. “Didn’t even see him until we were almost on top of him.” He refused to go so far as to admit it had happened because he’d been busy irritating his brother and was thankful when Sam didn’t throw him under the bus with the vet.

“Ah, I see,” Doctor Osham nodded. “Well, we can certainly keep him here until he’s better. There’s a shelter about an hour that should be able to take him after that.” He smiled at the two men warmly. “Not everyone would have stopped, let alone piled a strange dog in their car and gone to the trouble of getting him help. You’re good boys.”

“Right. Thanks.” Dean ducked his head, uncomfortable with the praise.

“I’m glad he’s gonna be alright.” Sam smiled sadly. “Thank you.”

“Come on, dude. We gotta get back on the road.” Dean nodded to the doctor and gave Sam a nudge toward the door.

“Guess he is kind of big to keep in the car.” Sam smirked at his brother and the terrified look on his face.

“Don’t even think about it, Sam,” Dean warned and pointed a finger at him. “No dog is living in my Baby.”

Sam chuckled as they left and got back in the car. “Well, my shirt’s dry now.”

“Shut up,” Dean growled, not needing the reminder for why they’d hit the dog in the first place. He pulled out of the parking lot and then groaned. “Dude, it smells like wet dog in here.”

Sam snorted and shook his head, easing down in the seat and rested his head against the window. “Serves you right.” He muttered and took the slap to his shoulder with a smile. He was intensely relieved that the dog would recover and sad to leave him behind. He knew a car and an endless string of motels was no place to have a pet but it never stopped him from wishing for it. He let the cold glass of the window soothe the headache that still beat behind his eyes and found himself missing his father all of a sudden. It still hurt; letting Dad walk away as they had may have been the right choice but it didn’t feel like it and he wished he’d put up more of a fight. Seeing his father again had revived the nightmare in his mind that was Jess’ death and he so wanted to talk to the one person who truly understood again.

Sam startled when Dean’s hand landed on the back of his neck for a moment. “Huh?”

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Dean asked and put his hand back on the wheel. “You’re sighing over there. The dog’s fine dude. You heard the doc.” Dean knew all the myriad sounds his brother made. He’d catalogued them from birth and so knew that something was bothering the kid.

Sam looked over at him and shook his head. “I know. It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

Dean scowled. In ‘Sam speak’ that meant it was something other than the dog and that likely meant he was thinking about Dad again. He sighed, not in the mood for another round with Sam over letting their Dad go. “Don’t go to sleep. We’re stopping for food. I’m starved.”

Sam pushed himself back up with a groan. “No Mexican, Dean. Please.” He forced a smile on his face. “I am not spending a day in the car with you after Mexican food again.”

Dean chuckled. “No promises.”

“Rather ride in the trunk,” Sam grumbled.

“That can be arranged,” Dean cheerfully pointed out and watched hopefully for a Mexican place, or at least a Taco bell. He sighed when all he found in the little town was a non-descript, greasy spoon diner. “Guess you’re saved, tiger.”

Sam said a silent thank you to whoever had been listening to his prayer and got out. He looked over the little diner and sighed. “Not sure the food here’s gonna be much better.”

“Don’t be such a snob, college boy.” Dean slapped his shoulder on his way past and went inside. “Places like this always have the best greasy burgers.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Sam rolled his eyes and the interior of the restaurant did little to assuage his fears. Dark wood walls, dark, stained brown carpeting and chipped Formica tables made the inside look small and claustrophobic. They sat at a table halfway back along the row of grimy windows Sam put a hand on the table and then quickly removed it, wiping the grimy feeling on his leg.

Dean, however, looked content and smiled more widely as their waitress came over. “Well hello, beautiful,” He greeted the tall, leggy blonde who sauntered to their table in her pleasantly short apron and skirt.

“Uh huh.” The waitress, whose name tag read ‘Bea’ looked down at Dean with disinterest. “What can I getcha?”

Dean, far from being disheartened, took it as a challenge. There wasn’t a diner waitress yet he hadn’t won over. He wasn’t about to break his record. “I’ll have the greasiest burger you can find back there, fries and a coke. He’ll have whatever rabbit food you got on hand.” He grinned and winked up at her.

“Dude.” Sam groaned and shook his head. “I’m sorry about him. Let him out without his medication today.” He grunted and chuckled when Dean glared and kicked him under the table but the waitress smirked in amusement. “I will have a salad though and a coffee.”

“I’ll get your drinks.” She smiled at Sam, looked down her nose at Dean and left.

“Wow.” Sam turned to Dean with a grin. “Not sure I’ve ever seen you crash and burn that hard. You’re losing your touch.”

“Shut up. I am not.” Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and watched Bea at the counter. “She just hasn’t figured out how awesome I am yet.” He ignored Sam’s snort of laughter.

“Bet you ten you can’t get her number before we leave.” Sam aimlessly straightened his placemat and didn’t look up to see the look on Dean’s face, knowing he wouldn’t make it without laughing.

“You’re on, Sammy.” Dean grinned, straightened his jacket and slid out of his chair. “Better have that ten waiting when I come back.”

Sam chuckled as Dean strutted over to the waitress. “This is gonna be painful.”

“Hello.”

Sam looked down in surprise at the small voice and found a little girl standing beside him. She was no more than ten with blonde pigtails, a pink dress and several crayons clutched in her hand. She stared up at Sam with an adorable smile that made him grin back. “Uh…hi?”

“My Daddy went to the baffroom.” She went to the chair Dean had left and climbed up onto it, knelt in the seat and carefully set her crayons on the table. “I ran out of paper.”

“Really.” Sam took his paper placemat, flipped it over and slid it over to her. “Here you go, sweet-pea.”

Dean watched the waitress, Bea, walk into the back and began to wonder if maybe he _was_ losing his touch. She showed no signs of thawing despite his best efforts. He glanced back to his brother and then turned to watch, surprised. Sam was sitting with a little girl. They were both bent over the table, heads nearly touching and drawing on a placemat with crayons. Sam said something and the little girl giggled and beamed up at him. Dean stared and felt a pang of regret. He’d never realized really how good Sam was with children. On jobs, Dean usually sent him to talk to the kids but now he could see that Sam never complained because he actually liked them.

He watched Sam drawing with her, smiling warmly and openly at her and wondered how amazing a father he would have been if Jess had lived; if they had been able to have kids. He sighed and not for the first time, wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t gone to get Sam at Stanford. He shook his head, dismissing that train of thought. It was done; no point in wallowing in it. Dean turned back as Bea emerged from the kitchen with a tray of food.

“Look good enough to eat.” Dean said with a wink and grin as she neared him. “The food of course, I mean.”

“Uh huh.” Bea rolled her eyes. “You should probably stop talking to me now. I’ve got four brothers. Big guys and they’re all here today.” She turned and nodded to the other side of the diner. “Those three back there taking up all the space? Yeah those are my brothers and they don’t look too happy with you. Also.” She leaned in and fixed him with a warning glare. “Guy that just cooked your food is also my brother so how about you go sit back at your table and stop giving me grief.” She fixed a fake smile in place. “Thanks.”

Dean watched her walk over to his brother and wondered when he’d gone from eligible good time to stalker. “Wow.” He followed her over and reached the table just as a man came up and scooped the little girl out of his seat, making her giggle.

“Damn, sorry about that, sir. Addie likes to play with people.” The man grinned sheepishly and settled his daughter on his hip.

“Oh I didn’t mind at all,” Sam smiled and collected the crayons and paper. “Here honey. You take these.” He handed them up to the child who collected them against her chest and grinned back down at him. “She’s fantastic.”

“Thanks. Come on you little trouble maker.” The man swung around and headed outside with Addie waving over his shoulder at Sam the whole way.

Dean dropped back into his chair while Bea deposited their food and drinks and promptly walked away. “Well, at least one of us is having luck with the girls today.” He smirked and fished his wallet out of his pocket.

“You? Admitting defeat?” Sam laughed as Dean handed him a ten dollar bill.

“I give up. That woman is one uncatchable fish.” Dean shook his head and pulled his burger over. “Even threatened me with her brothers. Maybe she’s just not into guys?”

Sam snorted and dumped sugar and creamer into his coffee. “More like she’s smart enough not to screw around with drifters.”

“Whatever. Eat your rabbit food.” Dean waved his burger at his brother with a scowl. He took a bite and sighed, smiling. “At least the food’s good.”

“You say so.” Sam started on his mostly wilted salad with little gusto but ate it so Dean wouldn’t nag at him about not eating enough. Truthfully, he wasn’t feeling that great and knew he was coming down with something but the last thing he wanted was to have Dean second guessing his readiness because of a stupid cold.

Their waitress returned only once to give them their check, Sam a smile and Dean a dirty look before heading back into the kitchen. Sam laughed softly and dropped the ten Dean had given him on top of the bill and stood. “Come on, before you really piss her off.”

Dean laughed at himself and left with a last glance at the closed kitchen door and a shake of his head. “Never gonna let me live this down, are ya Sam?” He asked as he stepped outside. He started in surprise as two men grabbed him quickly and wrapped his arms up behind his back. “Get off me! Sam!” He looked wildly around and saw two more men with Sam caught between being dragged around the side of the little diner.

“Shut up.”

Dean grunted as a knee drove into his stomach and stole his breath. They pulled him after his brother to the back of the restaurant that sat above a tall hill. Sam was already on his knees holding his stomach. Blood streamed from his nose.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouted and kicked out at the man on his left. He caught him in the knee and sent him to the ground, earning a punch to the side of his head from the other man for his effort.

“Shouldn’t have screwed with our sister, asshole.” The man pulled Dean around and slammed him back into the wall of the diner, making his head spin.

“Oh crap.” Dean groaned and made a silent promise to ask the next waitress about siblings before he flirted with her.

“Get the hell off him!” Sam yelled. He surged to his feet and drove his fist up under the jaw of the man nearest him. His head snapped back and his eyes rolled up in his head. Sam turned to the other man and caught the fist aimed at his face. He spun him around and threw him into one of the men on his brother in a fury.

“Attaboy, Sammy!” Dean shook his head to clear it and drove his own knee up into the man who’d slammed him to the wall, returning the favor and grinned as he went down gasping. “Do not know who you’re screwing with.” He landed an elbow on the back of another man’s neck and he fell senseless to the dirt.

“Sam? You good?” Dean looked over and watched Sam wiping blood irritably from his chin.

“Yeah.” Sam gave him a lopsided, bloody grin. “No more waitresses for a while huh? Don’t think my face…” He stopped on a gasp as the man he’d punched took hold of his leg and yanked it out from under him.

“Sammy?” Dean ran for him as Sam’s arms pinwheeled in the air. Dean’s whole world seemed to freeze as Sam vanished down the side of the hill. “Sam!” Dean stopped long enough to kick the son of a bitch who’d tossed Sam in the head. “I get back up here and any one of you sons of bitches that touched my brother is still here I will shoot you.” He delivered the threat in a growl and made eye contact with the waitress’ cook brother who nodded with wide eyes.

Dean turned his back on them and started down the hill. It was steep and he used the few small trees to aid his passage. Fear drove him to move faster than he should, making him stumble. He heard a groan and zeroed in on it. “Sam?”

“Yeah.” Sam moaned and rolled away from the spindly tree pressing into his back. It had stopped his tumble to the bottom with a painful lurch. “Ow.”

“Don’t move. I’m coming,” Dean called and finally saw him pulling himself to his knees shakily. His relief was palpable as he watched Sam moving and very much alive soon replaced by irritation. “What part of don’t move didn’t translate for you geek boy?” He growled as he slid down next to Sam and pulled him up carefully to his knees.

“That…sucked.” Sam squinted his eyes shut against the headache pounding behind his eyes and hissed in a breath as his back spasmed where it had hit the tree.

Dean ran hands down his brother’s arms and legs, grateful to find no broken bones. “Anything bruised or cracked?” He asked as he ran a hand down one side of Sam’s chest and smirked when it was knocked away.

“Stop feeling me up. I’m fine,” Sam glared over at him and then swayed into him, dizzy. “Ok…mostly fine.”

“Come on.” Dean stood and tugged Sam up with him, bracing him against the incline. He pulled an arm over his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here before those idiots decide to start rolling shit downhill at us.”

Sam snorted as they struggled up the hill. “They still alive?”

“Probably.” Dean glared up at the top of the hill, comforted to not see any of their attackers looking down at them. He hoped they had wisely run off. He wouldn’t be responsible if they got back up and they were still working on their case of criminal stupid. They’d hurt Sam. He’d hurt them back. “Easy.” He stopped to brace Sam as he tipped forward.

“Sorry.” Sam gave his head a shake. “Think my head found every damn rock on the way down.”

Dean chuckled and started moving again. “Hard to miss them with a head that big.”

“Bite me.” Sam stumbled again and only Dean’s grip on him kept him from face planting into the hill. “Thanks.”

“All part of the service, Sasquatch.” Dean chuckled and lugged his giant little brother the rest of the way up the hill. They crested the top and Dean had a hand behind his back on his gun but heaved a relieved breath to find the brothers had gone. “Ok. Car.”

“Ground’s moving,” Sam commented as they staggered around to the front of the diner and the car. He swallowed hard. “Um…and I think I’m gonna throw up…at some point. Maybe.”

“Awesome.” Dean rolled his eyes, opened the passenger door and helped Sam crumple into the passenger seat. He ran around to the driver’s side and gave the diner a last dirty look before he got in and pulled away.

Sam crossed his arms over his stomach and sighed. “No more crappy diners this trip.”

Dean smirked and nodded. “Deal. You alright?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded and leaned his head back.

Dean reached behind the seats and came up with a car rag, tossing it in Sam’s lap. “Clean your face dude.”

“Huh?” Sam picked up the rag and wiped it over his face, looked and made a face at the blood. “Yeck.”

“Yeck? Are you five?” Dean laughed. He shook his head and put on more gas, anxious to be away from the little town.

“Guy had an elbow like a brick.” Sam touched his nose tenderly and shrugged. “Still in one piece.” He rolled his window down, wanting the fresh air to settle his stomach and settled back with the wind blowing into his face.

Dean drove for a good half hour before he couldn’t ignore the gas gauge anymore. “Gotta stop for gas.” He nudged his brother and Sam nodded sleepily. Dean found a gas station off the highway, pulling off and then grinned as they neared. “Dude. They have pies.”

Sam looked up, smirked and rolled his eyes. The front window of the gas station boasted a huge sign proclaiming ‘homemade pies’. He waited until Dean parked and then eased himself out of the seat. “You fill up. I’ll go get your pie. Such a junkie.”

“Happy junkie, Sammy.” Dean grinned over the roof of the car, then frowned. “You good to walk?”

Sam rolled his eyes again. “I’ve had worse. So have you. Stop worrying.” He turned and headed into the station. He wanted something for his sour stomach as well which hadn’t gotten any better since the diner. He was graduating from occasional bouts of nausea to cramps as well not to mention the headache that would not go away. Sam went up and down the aisles with the occasional glance out to the car and his brother as he found what he wanted and picked out a pie for Dean as well.

“Hey,” Sam greeted as he reached the counter and deposited his purchases. He looked back outside and froze. Dean was still by the car but there was a second man there; shorter with a mop of black hair and a gun to the back of his brother’s head. “No,” Sam gasped. He sprinted for the doors and burst into the parking lot as Dean was forced into the car with the gunman in the seat behind him and started to pull away. “Dean!”

Dean growled dangerously as the idiot with the gun shoved the barrel against the back of his neck. “I said get in, now!” He heard the hammer cock back and decided getting shot wouldn’t win him any favors with Sam. Dean glanced at the station as he got in the car and suffered. He could see Sam’s wide, fear filled eyes through the door and was glad he was too far away to get caught up in the danger. He slid behind the wheel and pulled away from the station with the gun’s barrel pressed behind his ear.

“Just drive!” The gunman ordered.

“This aint gonna end well for you, pal,” Dean warned, meeting the man’s frantic eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Screw you. I’ve got the gun.”

“For now.” Dean jumped when the cell phone rang on the seat beside him.

“Who is that? Give it to me!” The gunman held out a hand and Dean picked up the phone, dropping it into his palm.

“Probably my brother wanting to know why I just left him behind.” Dean could have driven faster but he kept the speed reasonable, almost slow and so far the man hadn’t noticed.

The carjacker flipped the phone open and answered it, much to Dean’s surprise. “What? Who is this?” There was a pause while the man’s eyes widened. “What do you mean you know who I am? Who the hell are you lady?”

Dean watched the exchange with interest and then tried to hide the surprise on his face when he saw a motorcycle appear on the road behind them; Sam’s unmistakable figure hunched over the bike as he followed along behind them. He smirked. Trust Sam to find something to steal and come after him with. “Hey pal, how about you let me talk to whoever it is? Pretty sure that call’s not for you.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” The man yelled and focused his attention on the phone again. “Lady you better tell me how you know shit about me.”

Dean watched his eyes widen in surprise and then what looked like fear. “What the hell?” He asked as the carjacker suddenly scrambled over the seat and into the passenger seat, keeping the gun steady behind Dean’s ear.

“She said it’s not safe in the backseat.” The man said fearfully and wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes and he put the phone back to his ear.

“Who the hell are you talking to?” Dean demanded.

The man ignored him, focused on the phone once more. “What? That’s bullshit. You can’t know that.” He sucked in a breath as Dean watched and darted his eyes to the road ahead. “Yeah, you were right about that but that don’t mean you know what you’re talking about, lady.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel more tightly and tried not to get caught watching Sam inch up on them on the motorcycle. “You wanna share with the class?”

“Stop the car!” The man shouted suddenly. “Just stop! Now dammit!”

Dean grunted as the barrel of the gun jammed harder into him and knew he was going to have a bruise there. He slowed and pulled to the side of the road against the wall of trees. “Fine, we’re stopped. Now what?” He checked the rearview again and frowned; Sam was gone. Dean resisted the urge to turn and look, not wanting to give him away but needing to now where he’d gone so quickly.

The carjacker stared over at Dean with wide eyes and slowly moved the gun away from his head. He shouted in surprise as arms reached in the open passenger window and wrapped around his neck.

Dean stared in shock as his little brother jumped out from the trees and pulled the gunman bodily from the car. He shook off the momentary paralysis and snatched the gun, twisting it from the man’s hand as his legs vanished out the window. His phone fell forgotten to the seat as he scrambled out of the car.

Sam drove his fist into the carjacker’s face and dropped him to his knees as blood gushed from his nose and then Dean was there. “Dean.” Sam tried to see if he was alright but his brother had other things on his mind.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean pulled the gunman back to his feet and landed a solid punch in his stomach, doubling him over. He straightened him up and hit him again, this time in the head.

“Dean!” Sam grabbed his arm before Dean could land another punch and watched the man collapse to the ground in a heap. “He’s had enough. Stop!”

“No!” Dean kicked the gunman in the hip and growled as Sam pulled him away.

“He’s had enough, dude. Stop.” Sam kept a firm grip on his brother’s shoulders and waited until he felt some of the tension there slip away before he released him. “Come on. Just leave him.”

“You’re lucky!” Dean shouted down at the man where he cowered around himself. He turned on his heel and stalked around to the drivers’ side while Sam got in beside him.

“How in the hell did you get him to stop anyway?” Sam asked as they pulled away and back on to the road.

“Crap!” Dean felt around the seat until he found his phone and raised it to his ear. “Hello? You still there?”

“Dean Winchester tell me your smarter brother stopped you from doing something stupid to that poor fool who carjacked you?”

“Missouri?” Dean exclaimed, incredulous and glanced over at Sam then back to the road. “What…how?”

“Try using your words, Dean.” Missouri’s amused and soothing voice carried through the phone with a chuckle. “Psychic, remember? Knew I had to call you right then and do something.”

“How’d you get him to take the gun off me?” Dean was working to wrap his mind around the whole incident and Missouri Mosely saving his ass from four states away.

“Oh I maybe told him a few things about himself and the mistakes he’s made, little thing about his momma.” Missouri paused. “And then I might have told him what was coming for him if he didn’t get out of the car and leave you be. Guess he was smart enough to listen to old Missouri.”

“Holy shit.” Dean breathed and then grinned.

“Watch your mouth, boy.” Missouri scolded him. “Now, I’m gonna let you go explain to your brother what’s happened before the poor boy explodes. I can feel the tension in that boy from here. I got a warning for you too.”

“A warning?” Dean asked and waved Sam off when he tried to grab the phone from him. “Knock it off. What warning?”

“You boys watch yourselves where you’re going.” Missouri’s softened with worry. “And don’t you let that brother of yours outta your sight.”

“Why?” Dean’s momentary disbelief in what she had been about to say evaporated as it involved potential danger to Sam. He’d take whatever edge he could get.

“I can’t say for sure.” Missouri sighed at the waves of concern she felt from him. “Don’t you worry. You been watchin’ that boy all his life. You just keep doing what you always do. He’ll be fine.”

“A little detail would be nice, Missouri.” Dean said and tried to curb the anger in his tone.

“And I’d like to see next week’s Lottery numbers for a change but aint neither one of us gonna get what we want.” Missouri finished sweetly and laughed. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Wait. Wait!” Dean snarled and snapped the phone closed on the sudden dial tone. “Dammit.”

“Well?” Sam was practically vibrating with the need to know what the hell was going on. His nerves were still frayed from watching his brother be taken away at gunpoint.

“Take it easy.” Dean reached across the seat and slapped his shoulder lightly. “I’m fine.” He quickly related the events to Sam. “Missouri used her mojo to scare the carp out of the guy or something.”

Sam flopped back in the seat in relief. “What else did she say? At the end.” The look on Dean’s face had been one of deep concern.

“Just that we should watch our asses on this job.” Dean shrugged and put his attention back on the road. “Like we don’t know that already.”

Sam studied his face, knowing Dean was omitting something and also knew he wasn’t going to get it out of him. “Fine.” The last of the adrenaline left his system and with it the headache and nausea returned. He eased down in the seat and rested his head on the window again, letting the sound of the Impala’s engine lull him.

He didn’t know how long he had dozed but Sam woke with a groan as his stomach cramped hard enough to double him over. “Holy crap.”

“Sam?” Dean reached over and put a hand on the back of his brother’s neck. He hadn’t been feeling to hot himself for the last hour and hoped it had been his burger. Now, as Sam curled impossibly smaller for someone his size, Dean had to wonder if the waitress’ brother hadn’t done something to their food.

“Dude.” Sam turned his head so he could see his brother. “We gotta stop.”

Dean nodded. “I know.” His stomach was cramping up too and letting him know that he’d be bent over the nearest toilet and soon. Night was only just falling and he spotted the tall sign of a motel off to their right. Dean swerved across traffic to get the exit, ignoring the honking behind them and wiped at the sweat beading across his face.

“Almost there.” Dean pulled in to the little strip motel at the office. He climbed out of the car and had to take a minute to bend over as his stomach yelled at him. “Shit.”

“Let’s go.” Sam had dragged himself out of the car, needing to stand up and try to walk off the pain before he gave in and just cried. He patted Dean’s shoulder and made for the office.

“I’m coming,” Dean groaned. “Gonna go back…and burn that shithole to the ground, I swear.” He opened the door and let Sam in first then went to the desk and the young clerk there. “Hey. Need a room for the night.” Sam put a hand on the counter and dropped his head. Dean could hear him breathing through his nose and put a hand to the back of his neck again, not liking the heat he felt there.

The clerk, a young man in his early twenties with a ridiculously long, blonde mullet smirked. “One bed for you two lovebirds?” He asked as one of the men got all touchy-feely with the other. They had balls, he’d give them that, getting all sweet in his neck of the woods. “Might wanna watch the public displays of affection around here. Some folks aren’t as open-minded as I am.”

Dean stared and then smirked down at his little brother. “Naw, two beds.” He ran a hand through Sam’s shaggy hair. “So we can mess one up and sleep in the other.”

“Dean, dammit!” Sam straightened and glared at him, then looked at the highly amused face of the clerk, back to the mischievous face of his brother and decided to give as good as he got. He lunged forward and wrapped both arms around Dean’s middle and laid his head on his shoulder before smiling at the clerk. “Make sure they’re comfy beds.”

“Dude.” Dean shoved at Sam’s arms, suddenly not as amused anymore. “Get the hell off. Can we have a room please? Knock it off!”

Sam snorted and let Dean go, quitting before his big brother hurt him. He smothered his laughter and went back outside, cringing away from the slap to the back of his head. “Damn,” Sam groaned and doubled back over the hood of the car. It had been funny for a moment but his stomach wasn’t done with him.

Dean emerged from the office with a scowl firmly in place. “You are a pain in my ass, little brother, you know that? Get in the damn car.”

Sam laughed again and got back in before Dean decided to lock him out and make him walk. “God. What the hell’d they put in our food?” He asked, breathless as another cramp came and he folded over to the dash again.

Dean’s irritation with his brother faded as quickly as it had come. There was no way around the fact Sam was hurting because of what he had done, annoying a pissy waitress. He pulled up in front of their room, ignoring his own cramps and patted Sam’s back. “Ok. We’re here.” He watched Sam get slowly out of the car and followed suit. “Go on, I’ll get the bags.” Dean tossed him a key and went to the trunk while Sam fumbled the door open and vanished inside.

Sam flipped on the light, tossed the key on the bed nearest the door and dashed for the bathroom as stomach finally decided to rebel completely.

Dean lugged their bags inside, kicked the door shut and was greeted with the sound of Sam retching in the bathroom. “Shit.” He dropped the bags on the bed by the door and sat next to them, huddling over his own stomach and willing it to wait. It settled after a moment and he worked up the courage to go into the bathroom and risk the smell of vomit to help Sam. “How you doing?”

Sam waved a hand up at him as he bent over the bowl again and then let his head rest on his outstretched arm along the seat. “Like hammered crap.”

Dean snorted and then clamped a hand over his mouth and nose as the smell hit him. “Dude, courtesy flush.” He bent and pulled the trashcan out from under the sink and took it out into the room, sat on the side of the bed and held it under his head. “Never…eating again.” He hugged the can closer as his stomach finally made good its threat.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean shifted in his bed in the grip of a fever. The food poisoning had worked its way through their stomachs after several painful hours and they both were reduced to fevered chills and body aches. He groaned in his sleep as the fever spawned nightmares to further torment him.

_Dean walked down a long corridor. It was silent and cold. His feet made no sound as he looked around and saw he was in a hospital._

_“Sam?” Dean called and felt a flutter of apprehension._

_A sudden cry drew him into a run. It was his brother’s voice. He pelted down the hall that seemed to grow longer and longer as he run. He heaved for breath but put on more speed as Sam’s voice called out again and finally the hall seemed to squeeze in on itself and shorten and he reached the door at its end._

_Dean burst through the door and saw him. “Sam!” Dean ran to the hospital bed where Sam lay surrounded by men covered head to toe in blood red scrubs. “Get away from him! Sam!” He pushed the men aside and reached his brother._

_“Dean!” Sam reached out and clasped his hand. “This really hurts man! How do women DO this?”_

_“What?” Dean looked down and would have staggered back a step if not for Sam’s grip on him._

_“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me breathe or something?” Sam gasped and laid back._

_Dean couldn’t speak. Sam’s stomach was horribly swollen. His feet were up in stirrups and it finally dawned on him that…Sam was pregnant and…giving birth. “Ok. What the hell’s going on?”_

_Sam moaned and gripped his hand tighter. “Like you don’t know.”_

_“Wait.” Dean’s eyes shot wide and he shook his head. “Uh uh. No way, dude. This is not…”_

_“Don’t be stupid.” Sam managed to roll his eyes even as he panted through a contraction that Dean could see and that made his stomach turn._

_“One more push, Mr. Winchester.” One of the men between Sam’s legs said._

_Dean looked down and shook his head again. The doctor had a disturbing resemblance to Johnny Bench and was actually holding a catcher’s mitt in place. “This is…I need a drink.” He tried to pull his hand free but Sam kept a death-grip on it as he cried out and arched off the bed._

_Dr. Johnny Bench cheered and suddenly held up a squalling infant. Dean looked, then looked again and finally had to lean closer to see what his brain was refusing to accept. The baby was covered in fur with claws, sharpened teeth in its little mouth and red eyes._

_“Dude! You got knocked up by a Werewolf?” Dean exclaimed and looked back to Sam in shock._

_“Would you like to cut the cord?” The doctor asked and Dean finally pulled his hand free._

_“Oh HELL no!” Dean shouted._

Dean thrashed himself awake in his bed with a strangled shout. “Holy crap!” He pushed up and kicked his legs free of the sweaty blankets. “Wow.” He gasped in a few breaths and then looked over at the other bed and his brother, stretched out asleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and couldn’t stop himself reaching across and pulling the blanket back for a quick look at Sam’s stomach. It was as flat as it had always been and he let the blanket drop.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean breathed and smiled sheepishly, glad Sam hadn’t been awake for that. “Food poisoning sucks!” He turned around and pulled the edge of the curtain back for a look outside. Morning had come while he’d been stuck in his twisted little nightmare but it didn’t bring sunlight with it. The sky was grey and rain fell in a steady pour, making a soothing white noise against the window. He considered going back to sleep and decided he didn’t want to risk a replay of werewolf baby.

Dean stood and found he actually didn’t feel that bad anymore. The worst of it seemed to have passed while he slept and he actually wanted a cup of coffee. He smiled and headed for the bathroom. The day couldn’t possibly be any worse than yesterday.

Dean had showered, gone out for coffee and donuts and come back by the time Sam finally stirred. Dean slapped his feet. “Rise and shine, Sammy!”

Sam groaned and pushed up on his elbows to look at his brother. “You’re looking better.”

“You better believe it.” Dean took one of the coffees off the table and held it out too him. “Bet your ass I’m never sleeping with food poisoning again.” He shuddered dramatically. “Those were some screwy ass nightmares dude.”

Sam took the coffee, sniffed at it and then set it aside. He wished he was feeling as well as Dean looked but it seemed the bout of food poisoning had given his cold a solid way in. He felt like crap; he was tired, every muscle ached and his head had its own drum set. “I need a shower before we get back on the road.”

“Hurry up.” Dean sat down with donut and turned on the television. Sam was still pale and tired looking but he hoped the shower would sort him out like it had him.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam emerged from the bathroom with a studied, calm expression on his face he hoped would keep Dean from looking too closely at him. His headache had graduated while he was in the shower and was now throwing colored spots in front of his eyes; it was heading toward a migraine. He was debating giving in to the pain he knew was coming and asking Dean to hang around the motel for a few more hours when Dean’s cell went off.

“Huh.” Dean pulled his phone from his back pocket and frowned. “That’s weird. Another text from Dad.”

Sam watched him open and read it, the frown on Dean’s face deepening until finally he looked up grimly. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Been another death in Boone.” Dean put his phone away and started packing the room up in earnest. “Old Hunter friend of Dad’s. They found his body a couple hours ago.” He stopped and closed his eyes. “Guts ripped out like the rest of them.”

“No.” Sam dropped to sit on the edge of his bed. “Did he say who?”

Dean shook his head. “No. We’ll find out. Come on.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his now steadily pounding head, squinting in pain when Dean banged the door open and took a deep breath. They did not have time to baby a damn migraine. He sucked it up and stood, packing his own bag through blurred vision and resolved not to be the reason another body was added to the list.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam sat in the passenger seat, curled against the door with his eyes closed and feigned sleep. They had driven through the day and night had come while the rain continued to fall as if following them east. The headlights from the passing cars each sent a stab of agony through Sam’s skull. The migraine was in full swing. Every flash of light on his closed eyes, the rumble of the engine and each bump the car passed over only increased his agony and he’d taken to biting the edge of his jacket to keep silent. He only hoped it would abate before they reached Boone.

Dean’s thoughts were on the job and the text from his Dad. He couldn’t escape the guilt that if they hadn’t been waylaid at that stupid diner, they could have been there already and maybe prevent someone else from dying. The question was implicit in the text Dad had sent; ‘what’s taking so long?’

“Dammit,” Dean shook his head at himself. He glanced over to Sam, still asleep beside him and decided he needed some distraction and irritated Sam was always good for that. He clicked on the radio, took the knob and spun it up to ear-splitting with a grin. He had expected a surprised shout, maybe an insult or even a punch to the arm. Dean hadn’t been expecting the pained cry followed by Sam wrapping both hands around his head in an effort to escape the pounding music.

“Shit!” Dean hastily turned it off and jerked the wheel to the right, pulling off the side of the road. “Sammy?” He jumped out of the car and ran around the other side as Sam pushed his door open and fell to his knees on the wet pavement. Dean knelt next to him and took his arms, holding him up. “Hey. Hey! It’s ok. Just breathe, Sam. Friggin visions are starting to piss me off!” He admitted that he panicked a little every time this happened.

“No,” Sam said through gritted teeth. “Not…not a vision.” He lurched away from Dean and threw up off the side of the road from the pain. The cold rain drenching the back of his head and neck was actually a relief.

“Not a…then what the hell?” Dean slid an arm across Sam’s chest to hold him up as he heaved and then it hit him. “Aw, son of a bitch. It’s a migraine?” He saw the weak nod his brother managed and hung his head. “And I had to go and blast the stereo. Awesome, Dean. Great job. Hey.” He caught Sam when he went lax in his grip and pulled him back before he fell. “Easy.”

“Sorry,” Sam whispered. “Tried to tough it out.” He rolled his head onto Dean’s shoulder with a moan. “Just…give me an hour. I’ll be fine.

“Shit.” Dean wiped rain water out of his eyes. “Ok, back in the car. Up you go.” He nudged Sam up and back into the seat, closed the door and ran back to the trunk where he yanked out an old motel towel before he got back in. He scrubbed the cold water off his head and then draped it over Sam’s head. “Get dry before you get sick.”

Sam managed a poor excuse of a grin. “Too late,” He whispered, afraid to raise his voice and make the pain worse.

“Just rest, dude,” Dean said, equally softly and got the car moving again. “Only a couple hours til Boone and then you can hide in a nice dark, quiet motel room the rest of the night.”

“Got a job to do.” Sam rubbed the towel carefully through his hair and then held it over his eyes to protect them from the oncoming headlights.

“We will.” Dean assured him and slid a hand to the back of his brother’s neck to offer what little comfort he could while they drove.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_To Be Continued...  
_


	3. Chapter 3

_"Sorry," Sam whispered. "Tried to tough it out." He rolled his head onto Dean's shoulder with a moan. "Just…give me an hour. I'll be fine._

_"Shit." Dean wiped rain water out of his eyes. "Ok, back in the car. Up you go." He nudged Sam up and back into the seat, closed the door and ran back to the trunk where he yanked out an old motel towel before he got back in. He scrubbed the cold water off his head and then draped it over Sam's head. "Get dry before you get sick."_

_Sam managed a poor excuse of a grin. "Too late," He whispered, afraid to raise his voice and make the pain worse._

_"Just rest, dude," Dean said, equally softly and got the car moving again. "Only a couple hours til Boone and then you can hide in a nice dark, quiet motel room the rest of the night."_

_"Got a job to do." Sam rubbed the towel carefully through his hair and then held it over his eyes to protect them from the oncoming headlights._

_"We will." Dean assured him and slid a hand to the back of his brother's neck to offer what little comfort he could while they drove._

**_CHAPTER 3_ **

Dean drove into Boone, North Carolina just after ten o'clock and pulled into the first motel he found, eager to get Sam somewhere dark and quiet as soon as possible. He'd lapsed into an uneasy sleep, curled into the door, an hour ago. He pulled up and parked, and Sam gave a soft grunt but didn't wake.

"Stay put." Dean whispered and got out, dashing into the office to escape the cold rain that still fell. He shook the rain out of his hair as the door closed behind him and then felt a slow grin creasing his face at his first sight of the woman manning the counter. She was tall with long black curls hanging over one shoulder and deep blue eyes that twinkled appreciatively at him. "Well, hello there,” Dean said in a low, easy voice and smiled.

"Evening. Please tell me you're here for a room." She leaned over the counter making sure Dean could appreciate the low cut of her blouse. He was a tall drink of scruffy deliciousness, and she was definitely enjoying the look as he strode confidently up to her. "I'm Belle."

"Yes, you are." Dean let his eyes roam over the generous swell of her breasts and met her eyes with difficulty. "I need a room for my brother and me."

"Oh, I've got a room for you, sugar." Belle's eyes fluttered. "Is your brother as delicious as you? 'Cause there oughta be a law."

Dean chuckled. "Naw, he's a geek." He reached out and tangled a finger in one of her curls with a playful smile. "So, what's there for a guy to do in this town?"

Belle turned a register around and held a pen out for him. "I'm sure I can come up with something." She went to a wall of keys behind her, giving Dean a long view of her backside before coming back and dangling the key out to him.

He took it with a soft laugh. Dean palmed the key after writing his name and then frowned, irritated with himself. How could he so easily forget what had happened the last time he'd let his libido run the show? Dean sighed and leaned back from her with a sad smile.

"Thanks for the room, Belle." Dean nodded and took a step back, swallowing the heat she inspired in him. "Room's all I need, though." He turned from her crestfallen face and went back outside. Dean stood in the rain for a moment and shook his head. "Cannot believe I just walked away from the Do-Me desk girl. Dammit!"

Dean got back in the car with a disgusted groan and looked over at his sleeping brother. "See, Sammy? I can to do self-control." He snorted a laugh at himself and pulled away from the office, heading around the motel. He finally found their room along the back with a light glowing in the window, facing a small pond and strip mall beyond that. He got out and grabbed their bags from the trunk, then went to the room, wanting to get the lights out before he brought Sam inside.

He opened the door, stepped inside, and stopped, staring. "Holy…crap."

The room was hideous and he grimaced, physically disgusted. The floor was covered in a splotched, water-damaged, brown carpet with bright red diamonds crawling across it in crazy patterns, while the walls were painted in a shade of green that had escaped from the sixties. His eyes were drawn up to the border that ran the length of the wall around the room, and his brows rose. Sloppily hand-painted fairies had been drawn along it, and their misshapen bodies made him cringe. The beds were queen size, which was good, but sat beneath comforters boasting images of kittens. The only things in the room that didn't make him want to take out his gun and shoot something were the thankfully normal microwave, coffee maker, and television.

"He sees this, his head is gonna explode," Dean said ruefully. He dropped the bags onto the bed nearest the door and went to the bathroom, trying not to look too closely at the creepy fairies. He flicked on the light and groaned. "Oh, come on!"

The tile and walls of the room were pink-- hot pink --while the shower curtain was the same disturbing green as the walls in the room and more fairies were painted haphazardly along the walls. Dean considered going right back to the office and demanding a room not decorated by a drunk, color-blind, fourteen-year-old girl, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. Belle wasn't likely to be so accommodating after being shot down, and Sam needed to be out of the car.

"Awesome." Dean went back out into the room and turned off the lights, leaving only the bathroom to illuminate the room dimly. It had the benefit of making the ugliness harder to see, and he headed back out to the car.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean said as he opened the door and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, stopping his topple out of the seat. He pulled his leather jacket off of him and tossed it in the backseat.

"Crap." Sam jerked awake and squinted his eyes shut from the glare of the street light near the car. "We here?"

"Yep. Come on. One dark room coming up." Dean hovered a hand near him as Sam pulled himself up out of the seat, then took his shoulder, shutting the door, and guided him into the room. He chuckled when Sam let out a low moan of pleasure once in the darkened room and gave him a gentle push toward the far bed. "Go on. Coma time."

"Oh, thank God," Sam muttered. He eased himself down onto the bed, not even bothering to pull his jacket off and shoved his face into the pillow, soaking up the blissful darkness and quiet.

Dean chuckled and went to the bathroom. He ran the tap as cold as he could get it and soaked a washcloth, flipped it off, and went back out. "Here." He folded it and laid it across the back of Sam's neck, earning himself another blissed-out moan. "Well, that sounded naughty."

"Shuddup." Sam muttered without turning his head up. "…and thanks, Dean."

"Whatever." Dean rolled his eyes and went to his bag. He took it into the bathroom where he could see and dug around until he found the fake badge he wanted. He went back out into the room and picked up his keys.

"Dean?" Sam heard the keys jingle and raised his head. "Where are you going?"

Dean smirked at the door and waved the badge. "Agent King is gonna talk to the cops and have a look at the body. I'll be back."

"Dean. Wait." Sam pushed himself up and swung his legs to the floor, gritting his teeth against the clashing pain in his skull. "I'm coming."

"Dude, lay the hell back down!" Dean rolled his eyes as Sam ignored him and stood.

"It's not so bad anymore," Sam told him and even managed to raise his voice to a normal level in spite of the added pain the volume caused. "I can do this." There was no way he was letting Dean go out on his own when they didn't even know what they were after yet.

"No way. You're barely standing, and you're stupid if you think I can't see it." Dean glared at him and to prove a point he clapped his hands together sharply. As he expected, Sam swayed, groaned, and clapped a hand to his head.

"Unless you think…there's going to be an applauding audience in the police station, I can do this." Sam turned his own glare on his brother and stubbornly went to his bag, pulling the federal badge out of the pocket he knew it was in. "Makes you feel better, we can stop on the way and pick up some Excedrin or something."

Dean growled as Sam came over and walked past him to the door. "I'm gonna regret this," He muttered and followed him out. "Somehow, I know it. I'm gonna regret this."

Sam smiled for Dean when he got in the car and purposefully didn't curl over to rest his head against the cool glass of the window. "Let's go." He refused to let a stupid headache on steroids keep him from pulling his weight.

Dean shook his head and pulled out and said nothing. His instinct was to go right back and lock Sam in the damn room; and while once that may have worked, the Sam he brought back from Stanford was different. He was grown into himself and not as forgiving of Dean's mother-henning as he once had been. That made him smirk and remember a time when just a headache would drive his little brother to latch on to him like a limpet -- back when he'd still been the bigger brother.

"What are you smiling about?" Sam asked as they drove and carefully closed his eyes each time a car passed to protect them from the lights.

"Nothing, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Sure it is, Sammy."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean parked in front of the morgue and got out. He watched Sam get out and walk toward the door as though afraid he would break if he stepped to hard. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. If he believed in God, he'd pray for patience in dealing with obstinate little brothers. He followed Sam inside and went ahead of him to the desk.

"Evening." Dean took out his badge as Sam did the same and held it up. "Agents King and Regan. Coroner still here?"

"Whoa. Federal agents?" The young man behind the desk blinked as the men quickly folded the badges away. "Uh, no. Doc Mortimer's gone for the night. You can come back tomorrow."

"How about you tell us where the bodies of the recent victims are." Dean leaned into the desk, smiling. "You know, the ones that had their guts torn out."

The young man swallowed hard. "Um…I guess…I mean, yeah." He pointed to a door behind him. "Cooler's back there. You don't…want any help or anything, right?"

Dean smirked at him and shook his head. "I think we can handle it. Come on." He nudged Sam's arm to get him moving, not unaware that he hadn't said anything at all. He waited until they were through the door and alone before taking a good look at him. "Sam? You doing alright?" His brother's eyes were pinched with pain and nearly closed due to the florescent lights above them.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "Dude, I'm fine."

Dean snorted but left it alone. "Here we go." He pulled open a door marked 'body storage' and shivered as the cold air wafted out into the hall.

Sam stepped inside with him and closed his eyes as the cold air gave him a brief respite from the pain in his head.

"Hey." Dean called; keeping his voice lower than he normally would and pointed to a gurney. "This is our guy." He pulled the sheet back and stared for a moment.

Sam came up beside him and looked down, frowning. "He's…familiar. I can't remember his name."

"Jessop." Dean said softly. "Think you were like…ten maybe the last time you saw him. Dammit." He took a breath and pulled the sheet the rest of the way off and hissed in a breath at the damage. His torso had been clawed apart by something.

Sam swallowed hard, fighting back nausea at the sight of the red ruin of Jessop's body. It was quickly chased by guilt for his part in delaying their arrival. "Did we cause this?" He wasn't even aware he'd said it aloud until Dean shook his head.

"Can't think that way, Sammy." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He was, in fact, sure that he had caused it. If not for the beating they'd taken because of his flirting, they would have been there ahalf a day earlier and Jessop would have had backup. Suddenly, he was glad their Dad wasn't there. Dean wasn't sure he could take the disapproving look he was sure to receive.

Sam nodded and made himself lean closer and observed the injuries. "Is that…claws? Or could have been a beak, maybe."

"Hell of a way to go," Dean observed. He leaned down near what was once the man's chest, braced himself not to puke, and sniffed deeply. He reared back up and rubbed a hand over his nose. "Yeah. No sulfur smell, so whatever Mothra is, it ain't demonic."

"That's something," Sam sighed and pulled the sheet back over Jessop. He wished he could remember him better. He had only a vague memory of the man. "I'm sorry," He whispered as he patted the sheet in place.

"Come on. Let's go talk to the cops." Dean pulled him around toward the door. He didn't want Sam feeling any guilt over the hunter's death and would figure out some way to beat some sense into him. Sam was always willing to carry more than his fair share of guilt.

They went back to the car and down the single block to the police station. The nice thing about small towns was the fact you never had to go far for anything. Inside, Sam once again let Dean do all the talking and was clearly focused once more on not allowing the abundance of fluorescent lighting to make his migraine worse. Dean got them quickly through to the officer on duty, and smiled at him while keeping one eye on his brother.

"Evening, Officer." Dean nodded. "We need to know whatever you've got on the mauling deaths." He raised his hands at the dirty look he was given. "We're not here to take your case away from you, but our bosses want a report, dude. That's all."

"Officer McNulty." He nodded briefly to both men. "No offense, gentlemen, but I figured the FBI had bigger fish to fry than a bear snacking on a few tourists. We can handle this."

"No one is saying you can't, Officer," Sam said and smiled, hoping to put him at ease and hoping more that his face didn't reflect the agony in his head. "We're just here to look around, get the facts, and that's it."

"Really?" McNulty studied them both. The shorter agent was still a good four inches taller than McNulty himself and the taller man was pale, sweating, and clearly in pain from something, though he was trying hard to hide it. He sighed and leaned back against his captain's desk. "Fine, so long as you're not going to start playing whose is bigger over this case."

"Promise." Dean crossed his heart with a smirk. "Now, what can you tell us?"

"Honestly, not a lot. A bear is our best guess. It'd be the most likely culprit." McNulty shrugged. "Forest rangers have been over the area around town twice in the last week with no luck spotting the thing." He rolled his eyes after a moment. "There is a witness to the last killing. She's got a…crazy story. Doctors say it's probably just the stress of watching the guy die."

"What kind of crazy story?" Dean asked, his interest piqued. If they were lucky, they had someone who could actually tell them what the creature looked like.

McNulty chuckled. "She said it flew. You can talk to her if you want. She's at the Boone Clinic on the other side of town with some minor injuries from the attack."

Dean glanced at Sam and then scowled. "Thanks, Officer. We'll be in touch if we need anything else." He took Sam's arm. His little brother had his eyes closed and had gone white.

"Might wanna get him to a doctor while you're at the clinic." McNulty observed. "He don't look so good."

"He's fine." Dean waved over his shoulder as he steered Sam out of the office. He got them outside and patted Sam's shoulder. "Ok. No lights, no sun. Take a breath, you'll be fine."

"Dean," Sam whispered. "I can't see." Colored spots like flickering lights had begun to crawl across his vision as the lights glared at him, and they consumed his sight now. He was effectively blind and the sensation was disorienting and made him stumble. His ears were ringing, stealing the sound of his own voice, and he stumbled to a stop as he clutched his head. "Dean?"

Dean strode ahead to the Impala to get Sam's door open for him and hopefully pile his little brother in a bed for the rest of the night. He reached for the handle and stopped, cocking his head to the side. A strange whooshing sound cut through the night air. It was distant but growing steadily closer behind him. "Sammy, you hear that?"

Dean turned to look back at his brother. His mouth opened, eyes going wide in surprise. Beyond Sam, its feathered belly faintly illuminated from the street lights, something huge and dark was swooping in from behind an unsuspecting Sam.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted and broke into a run. Sam stood hunched over with his hands wrapped around his head and completely oblivious to the danger coming for him. "Sam! Dammit!" Dean tackled his brother to the pavement and covered him. He shivered as a wall of air rushed over his back accompanied by a deep growl and then sped off into the night. "Son of a bitch!" Dean rolled to his back and could just make out the creature's shape against the black sky as it vanished.

"Dean! What?" Sam groaned and tried to squash the panic threatening to overwhelm him as his vision was still obscured and now, thanks to his hard impact with the ground, the pain in his head had reached a fever pitch.

"Hey. Hey." Dean pulled Sam's hands away from his head and frowned. "Sam? What the hell, man? Birdzilla almost got your ass."

"I can't see." Sam could only make out the vaguest blur of his brothers face.

Dean reared back in shock and watched Sam's eyes roll around and refuse to settle on him. "Define 'can't see'." He forced calm into his voice and grabbed the sides of Sam's face, holding his head still. "How bad's the pain?"

"Bad." Sam squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing against a wave of nausea. "Colored spots."

"Ok. Come on. Up." Dean scanned the sky once but saw nothing and pulled Sam up with him. He wavered on his feet, and Dean slid an arm around him. "I gotcha. Almost there." He pulled his brother to the car and eased him into the front seat. "You're going back to bed and no arguments this time," he ordered as he slid behind the wheel.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean stood over Sam in the darkened motel room and rubbed a hand over his face. He was regretting ever taking this job in the first place. "How you feeling now?"

Sam adjusted the cold towel over his eyes and sighed. "I'm ok." He heard Dean's snort of disbelief and smirked. "Alright, I still can't see much of anything, but the pain's backed off a little. Thanks for that."

Dean nodded. He'd made a quick pit stop in a pharmacy on their way back for painkillers, and he still hadn't decided if not taking him to the clinic was a bad idea. "I need to go talk to this witness."

"Go." Sam waved an arm in the direction of his brother's voice. "I'll be fine." He desperately wanted to be able to go with Dean and back him up, but there was no way he could do that if he had to be led around by the hand. He was useless in his current condition. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"Shut up." Dean swatted his brother's knee lightly as he turned and put his jacket back on. "Not your fault. I'll be back in, like, an hour." He picked up Sam's phone and turned the ringer down to vibrate. "Here." Dean took his brother's hand and folded his phone into it. "Hold onto that. I'm gonna call. Ringer's off so it won't blast your ears."

"Dean. I'm really sorry." Sam turned his head to find his brother. Even with the cloth and his eyes closed he could still see the lights.

"You apologize again and, migraine or not, I'm kickin' your ass out in the parking lot," Dean said fiercely and smiled, knowing Sam couldn't see it. "Stay put."

"Thanks, Dean." Sam listened to him move away and the door shut and moaned softly. "This sucks."

Dean shook his head at their incredible bad luck as he went to the car. Only Winchesters could end up in this much crap, and they hadn't even found the damn creature yet, apart from a fly-by.

"Hey there, handsome."

Dean spun and raised a brow as Belle, the motel's clerk, sauntered down the walk to him. "Uh, no time to flirt, honey. No offense, but the last girl I flirted with, I ended up on the wrong side of about six hundred combined pounds of angry stupid."

"I promise you won't regret spending a little time in my company." Belle pouted prettily as Dean moved away and opened the driver's side door.

It was seriously hurting him to keep turning down a beautiful woman so intent on his company. Dean groaned and smiled. "I swear, Belle. Once we're done here, you and me are gonna have some quality time." He grinned as her face blushed. He slid in behind the wheel and enjoyed the sight of her in his headlights before he pulled away. "The things I do for the job."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean strode down the hall of the clinic behind a nurse old enough to be his grandmother and twice as bad-tempered. He smirked each time she tossed a dirty look over her shoulder at him.

"You don't tax that girl too much." The nurse said as she came to a stop next to a door. "She's had enough trouble."

Dean raised his hands and smiled. "Ma'am I swear I'll be the picture of self-control. The FBI hardly ever uses thumb-screws on witnesses anymore."

"Smart-ass." She growled and pushed the door open before stalking away.

Dean snorted a soft laugh and went into the room. "Evening, Ma'am," he said as he stepped up to the bed and its pretty blonde occupant. She was young and attractive. A bruise colored the left side of her face, and Dean knew the bandages on her right arm were covering claw marks from the attack. "The nurse said you'd be willing to see me."

Her head turned to him, one brow rising and she shook her head. "Funny. Who are you?"

Dean held out his badge. "Agent King. FBI. I need you to tell me what you saw last night, Ms...?"

"Are you serious?" She pushed herself up in the bed and scowled. "My name's Jeanne and I'm blind you idiot." Jeanne rolled her sightless eyes at him and then frowned.

"You're…oh man. I'm uh…" Dean stuttered and tried to decide when he'd become such a raving idiot. "Wow, I didn't mean…"

"I know your voice." Jeanne's brows rose in surprise. "Dean Winchester? That's you, isn't it?" She started to chuckle while Dean's jaw dropped.

"I know you?" Dean backed up a step, aware that his cover as a Fed was officially blown now. "Look, I know I've never…you know…with a blind chick…er…girl. I'd remember. Not that you're not, you know, gorgeous, cause…" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He knew he was sounding like an idiot, but couldn't seem to make his mouth close. "You look pretty hot, I mean, seem…Seem! You seem pretty hot. Crap."

Jeanne burst into a laugh and flopped back into her pillows. "Keep digging, sweet cheeks. This is the best laugh I've had all week." She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and could practically hear the flush no doubt burning on his face. She took pity on him. "Sacramento. Three years ago? You came through with your father, I think, on your way to check on your little brother. Hustled a little pool in my bar."

Dean stared at her, sifting through his memories and remembered that trip to spy on Sam and make sure he was alright in college. He had an image of a smoky bar, a marathon bout of pool where he made a small fortune, and blue eyes twinkling at him from behind the bar. "Wait a minute, you weren't blind then!"

"Head of the class." Jeanne snorted. "So, little brother got the brains in the family."

"Hey!" Dean glared and then snorted because his dire look of bodily harm was wasted on her. "Ok, how did…?"

"How did I end up blind?" Jeanne asked and sighed. "Meningitis. Hit me two years ago and took my sight."

"I'm sorry." Dean said softly and went to stand beside the bed where he could see her better.

"Don't worry about it. I'm over the bitter phase." Jeanne smiled up at him and patted the bed. "Sit already and tell me why you're here pretending to be a federal agent."

Dean smirked and sat. "We're here after the thing that killed the man you were with last night." He could have lied -- it wasn't like she could see his face to tell --but he felt somehow that she could handle it.

"Jessop." Jeanne nodded. "I took him up there to show him where I'd heard something….strange flying around. I go up there sometimes with my service dog, Nero." She stopped and her eyes filled with tears. "Whatever it is, it took him two days ago. No one would listen to me." Jeanne wiped irritably at her eyes and smiled when she felt her hand folded in a warm grip. "The cops wouldn't believe me. They said it had to have been a bear, but Jessop…he listened."

"He was one of us," Dean said and squeezed her hand. "It's kind of what we do, hunt down the strange and dangerous and keep it from hurting more people. I knew him."

"Oh, Dean. I'm so sorry." Jeanne reached a hand out and found his shoulder, moving it up to his face to cup his cheek. "He saved my life. I know that, even if I couldn't see it."

"Tell me what happened? Please." Dean pulled her other hand down into his own.

Jeanne nodded and took a breath. "We were walking up near the old mine shaft for the powder mill. He said he was looking for tracks or something. There was that…flapping sound from above us. I told him I could hear it." Her breath sped up with remembered fear of being trapped in darkness with death coming down at her. "I couldn't move and then…he crashed into me and knocked me down. There was this blast of air, pain in my arm, and then he was…he was screaming and it had him, taking him up. I could hear it…"

"Shh. Take a breath, Jeanne," Dean soothed as tears coursed down her cheeks.

"It came for me and got him instead." Jeanne closed her useless eyes and focused instead on her hands being held. "It went silent just…he stopped screaming, and then there was a…thump into the ground near me. I…I got up and walked, trying to find it. I, uh…I fell over him, and there was so much blood, Dean. Oh, God!"

"Ok. Ok." Dean pulled her up, careful of her damaged arm and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Breathe."

"He saved me." Jeanne turned sightless eyes up to his face. "Dean, you have to find it, whatever killed him. You find it and you return the favor."

Dean set her back into the pillows and squeezed her hands more tightly. "That's a promise. We will put a stop to this thing. Look, I need to get back." He released her hands and stood. "I'll let you know once we've dealt with it. In the meantime, you just get better."

"Dean, thank you." Jeanne smiled up at him and smirked. "Maybe next time we can have a conversation where you don't squeeze both feet into your mouth at once."

Dean laughed and rolled his eyes. "No promises. Take care." He slipped from her room into the hall and vowed to never tell Sam just how badly that interview had started out. Speaking of, he took out his phone and dialed his brother.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam lay in bed and choked under the feeling of uselessness that was consuming him. He was frustrated with his inability to be with his brother and anger that a migraine had laid him so low like an invalid. He figured it had been at least a half hour since Dean had left but couldn't be sure; he still couldn't see anything past the colored spots in his vision. The pain had at least eased off enough that he wasn't whimpering in agony anymore.

"Dammit," Sam muttered. He tightened his hand around his cell phone, wishing it would ring. He wanted to hear from Dean and know he was alright. He jerked up onto one elbow as he heard the handle on the door rattle lightly. "Dean?" Sam called and waited. There was no response and fear gave him the energy to move. He pulled his gun from beneath his pillow and staggered to his feet, wishing he could see. The furniture and the room were blurred and vague as he could only focus on the lights. He raised the gun in the vicinity of where he thought the door was and waited. He could hear the clear sound of someone picking the lock and a second later heard it swing open.

"Freeze!" Sam shouted and held the gun steady. He hoped he was actually aiming at whoever had come in. "Don't move. Who are you?"

"Sammy?"

Sam flinched in shock. "Dad?" He saw the shadow move, there was a soft click and the lights flashed on. "Crap!" He groaned as the light stabbed into his eyes and renewed the pain.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" John Winchester strode across the room and pulled the Taurus pistol from his youngest son's hand and watched in confusion as Sam then wrapped both hands around his head and squeezed his eyes closed tight. "Where's Dean?" He startled when Sam suddenly went to his knees on a pain-filled moan. "Sam?" He dropped to crouch beside Sam and ran his hands over him, looking for any sign of injury as his son curled over his arm with another moan. "Dammit, tell me what's wrong! Where are you hurt? Why isn't Dean here with you?" He pulled Sam up gently and eased him on to the edge of the bed. John kept a supporting hand on his shoulder to keep him steady.

"The light. Turn it off. Please." Sam was reduced to a whisper and couldn't decide if it was better or worse with his eyes closed.

John frowned and leaned back. "The light?"

"Dad, please." Sam would beg if he needed to at this point. The light had exacerbated the pain and it once more clawed at him.

"Where the hell is your brother?" John stood back in surprise, the first tendril of anger working its way into him. Sam seemed to deflate with a groan as he watched.

"Creature had a go at us earlier." Sam blinked, trying to see his father and sighed when he couldn't. "Brought me back here and went back out to talk to a witness at the clinic. He should be back soon."

"Were you hurt?" John bent over him to look for signs of injury again, convinced it had to be something more than just a headache, but Sam shook his head.

"Migraine," Sam told him and braced himself. He could actually feel the tension level in the room rise as he felt his father lean away from him.

"Are you telling me you had a headache and decided to let your brother go back out there alone?" John backed up a step and stared down angrily at him. "After the monster you're hunting tries for you, you let him go without backup cause your damn head hurts?" His voice was rising, out of his control with his anger. "What the hell, Sammy?"

Sam flinched at the volume. "Dad. What are you even doing here?"

"I came to see what was so important you two delayed getting here!" John shouted unaware of Sam's rising distress as he stalked around the room. "Jessop might not have died if you and Dean had gotten here when you were supposed to!" He turned to look severely down at his youngest as the anger of that loss washed over him. "And I find you lying around with a damn headache while your brother's out there alone and the creature's already come after you once. People are dying, Sam! You have to be stronger than this!"

Sam wilted under his father's disapproval and the pain ratcheting inside his skull. He wished he could see him and then thought maybe it was a good thing he couldn't see the disappointment on his father's face. "Dad, I'm sorry," He whispered, unable to raise his voice.

John knew he sounded heartless, but he'd hoped his sons were better equipped to defend themselves from the demon. Finding them like this, finding Sam like this, only made him sure he'd made the right decision in leaving them again. It was far too dangerous for them to be around him, especially like this.

Sam listened and heard his footsteps moving away toward the door. "Dad? Where are you going?" He couldn't bring himself to try and explain just how bad the migraine was in the face of Dad's anger. He felt ridiculous.

"I'm going to check on your brother." John growled and opened the door.

"Are…are you coming back after?" Sam asked because, no matter how disappointed his dad was with him or how bad he himself felt about it, he was still his dad and he missed him.

John sighed, standing half out the door and closed his eyes. "Sammy, I can't. I shouldn't even be here, dammit." He ran a hand through his hair, praying for patience. "I'm gonna make sure he's alright and then hit the road again."

Sam scowled as a thread of familiar anger worked its way into his voice. "Are you even going to let him know you're here?"

John resisted the urge to look back at his youngest. He didn't need to see his expressive eyes to feel guilt. He hated being parted from them and knew Dean felt it keenly.

"That's low, Dad." Sam whispered. He jumped as the cellphone in his hand vibrated. He hastily flipped it open. "Dean?"

John paused in the act of pulling the door closed as Sam answered his phone. The anger blew back to life and he stalked back into the room.

"Yeah, Dean. I'm fine." Sam pressed a hand into his forehead to try and alleviate the pounding. "But Dad…" He jumped in surprise when the phone was taken from his hand.

"Dean, get your ass back here." John yelled into the phone, feeling his temper desert him again. "What the hell were you thinking going back out there alone?" He listened to Dean's surprised stuttering for a moment. "Is Sam's headache the reason you were so late getting here? He doesn't need coddling Dean! You know that!"

"Dad." Sam reached out toward the voice and brushed a hand against his father's hip.

"No, Sammy." John stepped back, a scowl firmly in place, and he briefly thought he should get his temper under control, but then Dean was shouting at him through the phone to lower his voice and it rose up again. "Lower my voice? It's a headache! He's a grown-up, Dean. I think he can take it, and right now, the two of you need a good swift kick in the ass!"

The room door, still partially open banged open the rest of the way and Dean strode inside, tucking his cell phone away as he took in the scene. His father stood beside Sam's bed, anger clear on his face as he turned to glare at his eldest, while Sam was huddled on the side of his bed, bent almost in half with his hands wrapped protectively around his head. Dean saw red. He gave a glare of his own to their father and reached over, flipping off the lights and leaving the only light filtering out from the bathroom once more. The moan of relief from his little brother was enough to cool his anger and keep him from making the mistake of yelling.

"I realize you're pissed right now, Dad." Dean kept his voice low for Sam's sake as he went over to the bed. "You don't understand, and I don't have time to explain it to you." He knelt in front of his brother and slid a hand behind his neck. "Sammy?" He could see the anguish on Sam's face and the pain. He was swallowing over and over, and he knew what that meant. Sam's stomach was planning a revolt. "Ok, hold it in for just a minute more. Hang on." Dean dashed around his Dad who had yet to say anything and ran into the bathroom, coming back out with the little trash can in hand. He got it under Sam's head just in time as he leaned forward and spewed. "Easy, Sammy. Easy. Just breathe."

Sam had felt relief the moment he heard his brother's voice. Not only because he was back, but because it meant he was safe and Sam's weakness hadn't gotten him hurt. It didn't stop the pain from making his stomach roll painfully.

Dean spared an angry glance up at his Dad before turning back to his brother as he leaned back finally. "You done?" Sam nodded, and he set the can aside. "Ok, buddy." Dean eased him back to the bed. "Back in a sec."

"Dean." Sam shot a hand out, bumping into Dean's arm and grabbed on.

"Hey. Just stepping outside for a sec, dude." Dean smirked and pried his hand loose. "Close your eyes already. How's your vision?" He sighed when Sam shook his head and stood, turning finally to his Dad. "Outside."

John stared at him and down at Sam, then back at Dean. He was mildly in shock still from the tone of voice Dean had used with him. He was unused to that kind of rebellion from him. It was more Sam's style. He turned on his heel without a word and went outside with heavy, angry steps.

Dean followed him out and pulled the door silently shut before facing his father. There were very few reasons he'd stand up to his Dad, and the biggest one was lying inside the room curled in a ball in pain partly because of his father. "It's not just a damn headache. It's a migraine, and the last thing he needed was you screaming in his damn ear!"

"Dean…" John started with his own angry tone, but Dean cut him off.

"It blinded him!" Dean yelled, and then lowered his voice with difficulty, glancing at the closed door. He scrubbed a hand through his hair as his dad's jaw dropped and he stared at him. "He can't see a damn thing except for flashing lights or some crap right now. You wanna go knock him down some more?" Dean demanded. "'Cause I'm not sure he feels completely worthless yet. Dammit, Dad!"

"Dean…" John trailed and looked down at his feet. The knowledge that his youngest son hadn't even been able to see him while he'd been ranting cooled his temper into nothing. Sam hadn't been able to see him, and he hadn't even noticed, too caught up in his own anger to realize. "Damn, I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me," Dean raised his brows with a nod to the room door. "I'm not the one needs to hear it right now."

John sighed and nodded. He'd jumped wrong and he knew it now. "You still shouldn't have gone out on your own. You should have waited until he was feeling better." He walked past Dean with a quick pat on his shoulder and went back into the room. Sam was where they'd left him, curled into himself on the bed with his eyes squeezed closed even in the dim half-light from the bathroom. John went to him and leaned over to clasp a hand around his shoulder. "Sammy?" He kept his voice soft as Dean had and waited.

"Dad?" Sam asked, surprised that his Dad had come back and that he even sounded…regretful.

"I'm sorry I blew my stack, Sam." John squeezed his shoulder in apology and, he hoped, comfort, though that was usually Dean's territory. He didn't need to look around to know that his eldest was within arm's reach watching to make sure he didn't screw this up. "I have to go, kiddo, but you take care of your brother."

Sam nodded carefully and felt the hand on his shoulder leave. "Dad…"

"I can't stay, Sammy. You know that." John said sadly and turned to Dean. "Dean --."

"Watch out for Sammy. Duh, Dad." Dean said and plastered a patented smirk on his face even as he silently wished to argue with him to stay. "Don't get dead."

John smiled and clasped his son's arm. "Same goes." For them it passed for a declaration of love, and he slipped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him soundlessly.

Dean sighed and went to sit beside his brother. "Hey, little brother."

"Dean." Sam blinked furiously trying to see him. "Dad's right. I should have been out there with you."

"Knock it off." Dean stood and went to the bathroom, pulling the door a little more closed and dimming the light further. "This is not your fault, any of it, and I shouldn't have gone out alone. I should have waited." He came back and smiled though he knew Sam couldn't see it. "I'm gonna go grab some painkillers. Think you need something with a little more kick."

Sam smirked through the pain. "Late night pharmacy raid?"

"You know it." Dean patted his leg and straightened his jacket. "Back in ten…well maybe twenty depending on the lock. You stay in the damn bed." He took Sam's answering snort for an assent and went to the door.

Sam listened to him leave, hearing the door snick softly closed and sighed to finally have silence once more. His father's words still rang in his ears, and even though the apology had surprised him, he couldn't help but feel they were true. Sam rubbed his fingers along his forehead and willed the migraine to back off. His fingers stilled as he heard the doorknob turning and smirked as he heard the sound of the door opening.

"Dean. You forget your wallet?" Sam asked softly. "Not that you'd need it." He listened to footsteps coming across the carpet but received no answer. He pushed up on one elbow, frowning as he stared at the colored spots in his vision and the vague figure moving closer. "Dad?" He gasped as he was roughly pulled from the bed and felt an arm wrap around his neck under his chin in a steely grip.

"Well, what do you know?" A woman's voice purred in his ear, and he froze. "I was just wondering where dear old Dad was. How about you be a sweet little thing and tell me?" She brushed her lips against his ear, making him flinch. "Sam."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean stood at the back door of the little pharmacy he'd chosen and made quick work of the pathetic lock on the door. He smirked and pushed inside. As far as he could tell, the place didn't even have a security system which just made his job easier. Years of 'liberating' the supplies they needed from little places like this made it easy for him to find what he was looking for, and he efficiently rifled through the shelf of painkillers for what he wanted. He pocketed the bottle of Tylenol 3 and went quickly back outside. He was even nice enough to relock the door on his way out with a soft chuckle.

He climbed back into the car and took out his phone. He'd only been gone for fifteen minutes or so but it was enough time for him to want to check on his brother. The fact that he was temporarily blind -- and he refused to consider it was anything other than temporary -- was making him nervous. Dean dialed Sam's number and waited for him to pick up. It rang four times and went to voicemail.

"Dammit, Sam. Answer the phone." Dean dialed again and started the engine, pulling out onto the main road as it rang. This time it clicked as the call was answered. "Dude, you fall asleep?"

"You really shouldn't have left little brother alone, Dean."

The woman's voice oozing sweetly and dangerously out of the phone into his ear froze Dean's blood. "Who the hell are you?" His only response was the line going dead. He threw his phone to the seat and pushed the gas to the floor. "Be alive," Dean muttered as he sped down the empty streets and came in sight of the motel. "Be alive." He had no idea what the fuck was going on _now,_ unless the monster they were hunting could change into a person -- and wasn't THAT a disturbing thought – but whatever it was, he knew for sure that it wasn't good.  
He pulled up in front of the office, rather than the room. He got out and ran to the trunk, propping it open as he looked down the building to their room at the end but could see nothing out of place. He hastily grabbed a flask of holy water in one hand, a shotgun loaded with rock salt in the other, and brushed a hand over the comforting weight of the Desert Eagle at his back before closing the trunk. Whatever was waiting in there with his brother, he was going to be ready for it.

Dean jogged down the line of rooms to the end and ducked under the window until he reached the door. It was closed and he put his ear near it, listening. At first there was nothing, no sound at all, from inside the room, and he wildly hoped that he'd just dialed the wrong number. Then he heard it, the sound of fist hitting flesh and a pained grunt that could only be his brother.

"Dammit," Dean cursed under his breath. He stood and braced the gun in both hands before rearing back and kicking in the door. It slammed open and into the wall where he stopped it with a foot. His eyes widened in shock. Two men whipped around at his entrance, staring. Beyond them, standing over his restrained and already bleeding brother was Belle, with a hand on each of Sam's shoulders and a smile on her face. They all had one thing in common -- their eyes were the coal black of demonic possession.

"Son of a bitch." Dean breathed. "Get away from him, you bitch!"

Belle chuckled. "Now, Dean. I did try to leave baby brother out of this, you know." She tsked at him and shook her head. "How many times did I ask you to come with me? Hmm?"

"Lady, you don't get your hands off him, I'm gonna cut em off." Dean grinned dangerously. "Bet even a demon can feel that. Now. Let. Him. Go.”

"No can do, lover boy." Belle smiled sadly. "I could have made this so much more pleasant." She looked to the two other demons and gave a nod.

"Forget it, bitch." Dean turned and fired a round of rock salt into the chest of the man on his left. He hit the floor screaming with black smoke pouring from his mouth. The second demon lunged at him, but Dean was ready. He flung up the open flask and sprayed holy water in its face. The demon's skin began to smoke, and he staggered away from the brothers to crash into the wall. He turned and brought the gun up toward Belle and then stopped cold. She had an arm around Sam's neck and was pulling his head back at an awkward, painful angle.

"Stop right there!" Belle shouted. "I'll kill him before you get anywhere near me!"

Sam struggled to pull in a breath past the arm around his throat and spat blood out with a cough. "Dean." He managed and could just see through the spots in his vision enough to know where his brother was. He gave a small nod.

Dean felt a wave of pride in the man he'd helped raise, who faced his potential death with calm and complete faith in his big brother to not let it actually come to that. Dean met Belle's eyes and smiled. "No way, sister." He swung his arm up and sprayed holy water into her face. She screamed and Dean rushed her, unwilling to risk shooting Sam in the face with rock salt. Dean slammed into her and took her to the floor along with Sam and the chair he was tied to in a tangle of limbs.

Sam grunted in pain as his head slapped into the floor with Dean's weight. His brother rolled off him, and Sam could hear him struggling with Belle. He raised his head, but could still see little beyond the flashing spots in his vision. He let his head drop back to the floor and did the only thing he could think of to help; he began reciting the exorcism for demons.

Dean took a knee to his stomach and shoved Belle's head back with a growl. "You bitch." He brought the flask of holy water up and poured it over her face and into her mouth as she screamed. He registered Sam's voice behind him and realized he was speaking Latin. Dean grinned. "You're about to get a one way ticket back home."

"No!" Belled screamed through the burn of the holy water and shoved at Dean's weight. Her abnormal strength allowed her to roll him across the floor. She scrambled to her feet and reached for Sam, but Dean was suddenly there tossing her aside.

"No you don't!" Dean shoved her back and made to douse her with holy water again. She kicked the flask from his hand, making him growl with temper. "Hurry it up, Sam!"

Sam struggled to wrap his tongue around the words. The migraine coupled with the hit to the head he'd taken and the numerous punches thrown by the demons had him perilously close to passing out. He refused to give in. Sam yelped as something grabbed his leg and knew it was one of the demons. He sped up his recitation and tried to kick the clinging hands off.

Dean staggered back as Belle landed a solid hit to his face and spat blood. "Gettin' awful tired of you, Belle."

"Fun's just starting, pretty boy." Belle shook off the last effects of the holy water and flung a hand out to him. Dean was picked up and thrown to the wall. He hit hard enough to send cracks radiating out along the wood and hung suspended with her power. Dean let out a strangled cry and fought the force holding him still and pressing in on him. "No use fighting it." Belled smiled and dusted her hands off. "Now then." She spun and bent to slap a hand over Sam's mouth and silence him.

Sam spoke the last words of the exorcism in a yell. "Potenti Manu Dei!"

Dean watched Belle and the demon crawling up Sam's legs throw their heads back in an unearthly scream as black smoke poured from their mouths and fled out into the night and, he hoped, straight back to hell. The power holding Dean vanished and he slid down the wall and crumpled to the floor with a groan.

"Crap." Dean wheezed past abused ribs and took a moment to catch his breath before moving. "Sammy." He pushed up on his hands and knees and crawled over to his brother, putting a hand to his shoulder. "Hey, you with me? Sam?"

"Demons…suck," Sam gasped and instinctively rolled his head into the comforting coolness of the palm that pressed against the side of his head.

Dean smiled. "No arguments from me." He patted Sam's shoulder and then slid his hands under his back, shoving him and the chair he was tied to over onto its side. Dean didn't have the strength to try and stand them both back upright. He panted for a moment and then fumbled at untying the ropes still holding Sam in place. "Almost." The ropes released and Sam sagged to his chest on the floor.

"Ow," Sam groaned and buried his face in the musty smelling carpet to hide his eyes from the light. The relief was immediate and he would happily stay there. "You should…check on them." He waved an arm weakly and Dean nodded.

"Yeah, ok. Don't go anywhere." Dean smirked when Sam snorted softly. He went to Belle first and put a hand to her neck. "What a waste," He sighed for she was dead and, from the chill of her skin, likely had been for quite some time. "Sorry, honey." Dean closed her eyes gently and went to check on the two men. The one Sam had exorcised was dead as well, but the man he'd hit with rock salt was alive though deeply unconscious.

"Any survivors?" Sam asked from where he had yet to move on the floor.

"One." Dean left the man there, saying a silent apology for the bloody welts he'd have to deal with later and went to his brother. "We have to blow this pop stand, kiddo. No way someone didn't hear all that."

"Not moving," Sam muttered, perfectly happy where he was. He growled grumpily when Dean's hands rolled him over and sat him up.

"Shut up." Dean smiled. "Here." He fished the pill bottle he'd taken from the pharmacy out of his pocket and put it in Sam's hand. "Painkillers. Take a couple while I pack up."

"You ok?" Sam asked, following his movements vaguely and hearing the slight hiss of breath as Dean moved.

"Just some bruises." Dean started haphazardly shoving things into their duffels and looked over at him as Sam dry swallowed a couple pills. "How's the vision? Still tripping?"

Sam grimaced as the pills went down and nodded. He blinked and shrugged. "I can sort of see on the right side now."

"Well, that's better." Dean took the bags and ran them out to the car, tossing them in the backseat and went back for Sam. "Ok, Sasquatch. Up you go."

Sam helped his brother get him to his feet and closed his eyes to shut out the lights. "Not so fond of up right now."

Dean chuckled. "Join the club." He steered Sam out of the room and to the car, helped him into his seat and was pulling away from the motel as the first siren sounded in the distance.

"She sounded pretty," Sam said quietly. "You know, when she wasn't threatening to cut parts of me off."

Dean nodded. "She was. You didn't kill her though, dude." He looked over to gauge the expression on Sam's face. "She was already cold, Sam. The demon killed her."

Sam sighed, somewhat relieved and rolled his head into the window to let the cool glass soothe his head as they drove.

"I'll find us a motel without a demonic desk clerk." Dean patted his pocket where he'd stashed the holy water flask and planned on 'accidentally' splashing anyone they came in contact with from now on.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

"Dude, come on! I'm starving!" Dean pounded on the bathroom door and glared when it finally opened to reveal a smiling little brother. "I think I missed you blind."

Sam draped his damp towel over Dean's head as he went out into the room with a laugh. He felt like a new man. The pills Dean had given him combined with ten hours solid sleep had done away with the migraine, and he'd woken clear-headed with clear vision and a relieved smile.

Dean yanked the towel off and thwapped it into Sam's bare back before he could pull on a shirt. "Pain in my ass, Sammy."

"Ow. Jerk." Sam pulled on a shirt and then his jacket. "We gonna eat or what?"

"Finally!" Dean gave him a shove to the door. Their new motel boasted bland rooms; brown carpets and walls, brown bedspreads and even the tile in the bathroom was brown. The motel apparently saved any originality for the single giant bear head mounted on the wall over the beds. Its jaws were wide open to show its teeth in a silent roar and it gave Dean the creeps. He'd suggested tossing it outside but Sam had talked him out of it. He gave the thing a glare as they left and pulled the door shut on its beady, marble eyes.

"Hope we don't run into that thing's cousin out in the woods," Dean commented as they got in the car.

Sam snorted and dug a pair of sunglasses out of the glove box, unwilling to risk a return of the migraine due to the bright sunlight. "You know where we're going?"

"Yep." Dean drove and declined to comment how he knew. They were going to check out the mine Jeanne had told him about after they ate.

It was lunchtime and the few restaurants they drove past were packed. Dean opted for drive-through instead, and they ate a meal of burgers and fries on their way out to the forest. Sam had smiled as they hiked in beneath the trees, the dappled light soothing.

Sam glanced over and caught Dean smirking. "What?"

Dean shrugged. "Nothing. Just you look like you're high or something."

"I'm enjoying the fact my head's not trying to explode anymore." Sam rolled his eyes with Dean's laugh.

"Well, the…uh, witness said the mine should be around here." Dean peered through the trees looking for the clearing she had mentioned.

Sam gave him a sidelong look and then stared. Dean was blushing. "Dean?" He watched Dean look at him and then quickly away. "Dude, are you…"

"Hell, no, I'm not. Just…shut up." Dean glared at him and could feel the blush creeping up his face. "Should be right around here. She wasn't sure."

"She?"

"I said leave it, Sammy." Dean warned. They came out of the trees into a large clearing. "I think this it is. Jeanne said it was next to a clearing."

"Jeanne, huh?" Sam smirked and considered. "Didn't you tell me about a Jeanne in…Sacramento or something?"

"Shut up!" Dean slapped his arm and then grinned, pointing. "There!" Relieved to be able to get his brother off that topic, he jogged toward the dark entrance of a mine shaft. He didn't plan on ever telling Sam just how badly he'd put his foot in it with her at the hospital. It would dent his reputation.

Sam followed along and chuckled, even more curious about why his Lothario of a big brother would suddenly clam up about a woman. "I'll get it out of you eventually," he said as they walked into the darkness and took out their flashlights.

"Nope. Never gonna happen." Dean shook his head and played his light down the shaft. "How about you put some of that focus on the job, genius."

Sam laughed and shook his head as they walked. The shaft curved back and forth as it went, and only two hundred feet in, they reached a dead end. The roof of the tunnel had caved in to completely block it. "Huh." Sam bent and shined his light along the rocks and dirt, running his hands over them. "This has been here awhile." He held something up and put it in the light. "Moss."

"Don't think anything's living here. No debris. No bones. Nothing." Dean paced the width of the tunnel and came back to the rock fall. "Looks like we came out here for nothing."

"The creature had to be watching them from somewhere." Sam stood and dusted off his hands.

"Not here." Dean tugged his sleeve once and started back up the tunnel. He stopped and slapped a hand out to Sam's chest to halt him. "Wait. You hear that?" A rumbling sound was coming from up the shaft.

"What the hell is that?" Sam pulled his gun out as Dean did the same and started forward again. "Creature?"

"No." Dean's eyes went wide as he felt the floor begin to vibrate beneath his feet. "Oh man." He took Sam's arm and pulled him into a run. "Come on! It's a cave in!" They sprinted along the tunnel and were forced to stop, stumbling as the ground moved beneath them.

Sam was thrown to his knees and grunted as Dean tackled him into the wall. Rocks and dust showered down on them as the rumbling became a roar that was deafening in the confined space. It seemed to go on forever, but finally, slowly it died away, leaving only the sound of their heavy breaths.

"Holy crap." Dean pushed up off his brother. "Sam? You ok?"

"Yeah." Sam tried to roll over, but Dean's body was still in the way. "You comfy or are you going to move?" He chuckled as Dean swore and rolled off of him.

"Smart-ass." Dean brought up his flashlight which was miraculously still lit and looked around the tunnel. He reached down, took Sam's hand and tugged him to his feet, giving him a close look and nodded when he didn't spot any blood.

"What do you suppose the odds are that we're in the same area as the last attack and there just happens to be a cave-in?" Sam climbed over a pile of rubble after Dean and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as they neared the entrance. "Coincidence?"

Dean shook his head. "Don't believe in them. Dammit!" He yelled as his light and Sam's showed clearly the wall of rock and dirt where the entrance had once been. It sloped in to the entrance and across the floor.

Sam pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and sighed. "No signal. You?"

Dean did the same and then shoved it back in his pocket angrily. "Nope." His shoulders slumped and he tucked his gun into the back of jeans again. "Well, Sammy. Looks like we're digging."

Sam groaned and brushed his hair out of his face. "Just how I wanted to spend my day." He took his flashlight over to the wall and propped it on a ledge so it lighted the rockslide and then bent beside his brother to start clearing the debris.

Dean straightened up and leaned back, stretching out his aching back with a groan. He glanced at his watch. They had been digging for close to an hour and had cleared a vertical trench in the collapsed entrance. He was in the process of digging out a medium size boulder in his way and glanced over to Sam. Dean frowned.

"Dude, take a coffee break when we're out of here." Dean nudged Sam with the toe of his boot where he knelt beside him with his head bent.

"Dean," Sam looked up at him. He had become increasingly light-headed over the last ten minutes or so as he knelt, pulling everything Dean cleared out of the way and pushing it back into the tunnel. "Izza air getting thin?"

"What?" Dean stared in surprised. He took a deep breath and shook his head. "No. It's fine. Are you ok?" He dropped to kneel beside Sam and sneezed as a new smell hit his nose. The implication made his blood run cold. "Holy crap. Up. Get up, Sam. Now!" Dean took his arms and dragged his brother to his feet, steadying him as his legs threatened to buckle. "There's bad air coming in along the floor." He watched Sam's eyes roll and tried to think just how long Sam had been down on the floor breathing it in.

"Bad air?" Sam was having trouble wrapping his head around words. He was dizzy, confused and very sleepy. He dropped his head forward, unable to hold it up and closed his eyes. "Wanna sleep."

"No, no, no." Dean gave his shoulders a shake until his head came back up. "You stay awake, you hear me?" He looked around the small chamber lit only by flashlights with panic clawing at him. "Ok, you're gonna stay right here." Dean pushed him to the wall at the edge of the slide and leaned Sam up against the slope of dirt and rock. "You stay standing and stay awake."

Sam nodded. "Kay."

"Hey!" Dean slapped his cheek lightly and got his eyes open again, waiting until they focused on him. "You've been breathing something bad down there. You cannot fall asleep. You understand? Stay awake!"

"Stay awake." Sam nodded again. "Got it."

Dean made himself leave him there and go back to digging. He was on borrowed time. Eventually, whatever gas was coming in along the floor would rise and start affecting him as well. He needed to get Sam out. Dean spared a glance for him as he attacked the slide again. In the dim light, Sam still looked pale and was holding himself up on the wall with both hands as if the ground was moving, and Dean could hear his breaths wheezing.

"Hold on, Sam," Dean called and turned back to the barrier. He got his fingers around the boulder and pulled it free with a growl of effort, letting it roll to the floor. He stood on top of it to reach higher, figuring the debris would be thinner near the top, and used his hands like shovels, pulling clods of dirt and rock free to rain down to the floor.

Sam listened to Dean digging and wanted to help, but he couldn't make himself move. His lungs were burning, his head spinning, and even as he silently yelled at himself to stay standing, he felt himself sliding down the wall. He tried to hold on, but his fingers felt numb and refused to cooperate.

"Sammy!" Dean jumped to the floor and caught him as he reached the floor. "Don't do this, dammit. Come on!" He pulled him back up and groaned under the weight. "Sam?" His brother's head rolled back on his neck as his eyes closed. "Sam! Wake up!" He slapped his face again but there was no response. Dean rubbed his knuckles into his sternum with bruising force and only succeeded in getting a low, gasping moan. "Shit!"

Dean dragged Sam over to where he'd been digging. "Hold on, buddy." He pushed and kicked the boulder with one leg against the rock slide and lowered Sam down so he was sitting on it and leaning against the wall. He put his face down next to Sam's and sniffed. The air at that level was clear for the moment. Dean lowered his head and sneezed again, finding the invisible gas, whatever it was, at Sam's chest.

"You hold on, Sam. You hear me?" Dean palmed the side of his face and felt fear closing his throat. He went back to the wall, straining to reach up and clear more of the blockage away. He shoveled dirt out in time with Sam's labored breathing. He startled as his right hand suddenly went through the wall of earth and shouted with success. "Alright! Almost there, little brother. Almost there."

Dean started pushing, shoving the dirt out as daylight filtered in a narrow beam to bathe his face. He widened the hole and then froze. The only sound in the mine was now his own breathing. "No!" He bent to his brother and saw his lips had turned blue. "Shit. Shit!" He knew the only way to save him was to get him out. He threw himself at the wall, shoving and kicking to create an opening wide enough. It took him precious minutes to create a hole big enough for them. When he had he hastily pulled Sam up and shoved his head and shoulders into it, out in the open air. "Sorry, buddy." Dean pushed, moving his limp form through and scrambled after him when Sam rolled out of sight. He blinked furiously in the sunlight and slid down to Sam. Dean took his shoulders and pulled him out to level ground. "Ok. You're gonna be fine." He bent over Sam and opened his mouth, pinching his nose off. "Dude, you tease me about this ever, I will end you." Dean bent and forced air into his brother's lungs. He breathed for Sam again and then a third time. "Come on, Sammy. Breathe dammit!" He laid a hand on his neck and felt his heart still beating, though sluggishly and breathed for him again with renewed fervor; his time was almost out.

"Dammit, Sam. Breathe!" Dean leaned back and thumped his fist into the center of his brother's chest. Sam's eyes fluttered as Dean watched, and a second later his back arched as he gasped in air.

"Dean!"

"Easy! Easy, Sammy." Dean pulled him up so he was sitting and leaned him against his chest to keep him upright as he heaved in clean breaths. He realized his own breathing was heavy from fear and worked to slow it down as the adrenaline began to wear away with Sam finally breathing and awake.

Sam rubbed a hand across his chest and grimaced. "Guh…dude. What the hell happened?"

Dean smirked. "You decided to take a little break from breathing."

Sam looked around, seeing they were outside and found the hole Dean had dug in the rock fall. He shivered. "Damn." He pushed forward, taking his own weight and groaned. "Ok, no more mines, huh?"

Dean stared into the dark hole and nodded, in complete agreement. "You stand?"

"Yeah." Sam let him help him to his feet and gave his head a shake to clear it. "Good thing the creature didn't show up while you were yanking me out of there."

Dean snorted and took his arm, pulling him into the woods in the direction of the car. "For once Winchester luck doesn't bite us in the ass. Don't jinx it."

They retraced their steps out of the forest with no sighting of their quarry, for which Dean was grateful. He didn't think they were in any condition to chase the damn thing just then. He'd tried to convince Sam that they should go back to the motel and get some rest. Sam, on the other hand, was being his usual stubborn self, insisting he was fine, and, in fact, had annoyed Dean until he'd given in to his little brother's request for food. He glanced over at Sam in the passenger seat and admitted that he didn't look to bad all things considered, though he was still rubbing his chest where Dean had struck him to get him breathing again.

Sam coughed and cleared his throat. He raised a hand before Dean could say anything. "Dude, it's dust. I'm fine."

"Uh huh," Dean said and shook his head. He'd be keeping a very careful eye on his brother for the next day or so. They reached town and Dean stopped the car, staring out the windshield. "Aw, what the hell is this?" The main street of town had been transformed while they were in the forest. Banners and streamers hung from every lamppost and storefront. Tourists by the dozen were walking the formerly quiet street and stalls had been erected, some still in progress. A giant banner hanging across the street proclaimed the Boone Wine and Food Festival.

"Wow," Sam breathed, looking at all the activity. "That went up fast."

"Awesome," Dean groaned and got the car moving again. "Plenty of food for birdzilla."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean woke with a groan and swatted at the itching under his nose. He opened his eyes and found Sam standing over him holding a twig under his nose. He grabbed the stick and jerked upright. "You little shit! I will kick your ass, Sammy!"

Sam laughed and moved out of range, raising his hands. "Not my fault you got loaded last night hustling pool." The bar they had chosen to eat at had been heavy with the festival goers and Dean had decided to pad their wallets a little fleecing the unsuspecting. He'd made a tidy sum running the tables and Sam had had to drive them back while Dean sang Aerosmith songs off tune with the radio. "You deserve a hangover."

Dean groaned and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "It was that idiot I played last. The one I took for three hundred?" He grinned and got out of bed. "Dude kept ordering Jaeger shots. Ouch."

"He was probably hoping if he got you drunk enough you'd start losing." Sam laughed again as Dean snorted in disdain.

"Never happen." He headed into the bathroom. "I'm gonna shower and then we're going for food. I'm friggin starved."

"Me too." Sam jumped as the stick hit him in the back of the head and turned in time to see Dean flip him the finger and close the bathroom door. "Jerk." He chuckled and sat down with his laptop to do more research while Dean showered. It was seriously beginning to dent his pride that he had yet to identify the creature.

He was still running through possible creatures in his head as he and Dean slid into a booth in a local diner. It was bustling with people, every table and booth filled as festival goers overran the town. "Wow. This place is packed," Sam commented as the waitress dropped menus on their table.

"Oh the whole town's packed for the festival." The waitress laughed and smoothed silver hair back from her forehead. "What can I get you boys?"

"Anything special for the festival?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Gotta hit the head." Dean stood and smiled winningly at the woman. "I'll take your biggest, sloppiest burger with bacon and fries."

Sam snorted as Dean walked away. "He likes listening to his arteries harden."

She waved a hand. "My son's the same, now. Specials!"

Dean dodged several people on his way back to the table and slid into his seat. He rolled his eyes, reached across the table and closed Sam's laptop on his fingers. "Food, geek."

"Hey!" Sam protested and then sighed. "Fine." He slid the laptop away. "Not getting any closer anyway."

"We'll find it. We'll kill it," Dean said simply with a grin.

Sam snorted. "When is it ever that simple?"

"Ooh, food!" Dean said to change the subject as their waitress returned with a laden tray.

"Here you go boys!" She took off a plate with a massive burger and fries and set it in front of Dean.

"Oh, baby." Dean leaned over the burger and sniffed deeply.

The waitress chuckled merrily and took a bowl off her off her tray. "And for you, today's festival special! Enjoy!"

Dean looked at the bowl in front of Sam and scowled. "Dude. Are you eating ice cream for friggin lunch? What the hell is that?"

Sam laughed and grabbed a spoon. "Festival special. I had a craving soon as she said it." He dug his spoon into the ice cream. "Spiced, fried Dill Pickle chips in Chambord ice cream."

Dean watched him take a bite and lost all interest in his own food. "You had a craving?" He said and shuddered as Sam took a bite. "Pickles and ice cream." Dean watched him take another bite and had a vivid flashback to his food poisoning inspired nightmare and Sam giving birth. "Holy crap."

"What?" Sam looked up and lowered his spoon. He'd never seen that particular look on Dean's face before. "Dude, what's wrong?" Dean looked upset.

"Nothing." Dean looked down at his burger and suddenly didn't have much of an appetite.

"It's not nothing." Sam kicked him under the table. "You look like you've seen a ghost. What's going on?" He watched Dean's eyes stray up to his ice cream again and then away. "Wait, something about my food?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "It was a…I had a nightmare, ok?"

"Ok, and?" Sam pressed. "Why do ice cream and pickles upset you this much?"

"I'm not upset!" Dean protested and gave him a disgusted look. "It's just, pickles and ice cream, that's like…pregnant food."

Sam snorted. "Well, last time I checked, guys don't get pregnant." He laughed. "It's just food, dude." He stared when Dean flinched slightly at his pronouncement. "Obviously, you need to tell me whatever it was you dreamed."

Dean squirmed under Sam's amused look and groaned. He rushed it out, telling him about the nightmare, his bizarre werewolf pregnancy, and, by the time he was done, he had the urge to beat his little brother senseless. "You can shut the hell up now. It was astupid nightmare."

Sam laughed. He giggled and tried to smother the laugh, then gave up and leaned his head back, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Holy crap, Dean." He was wheezing with laughter. "Sorry. I'm sorry, but…werewolf baby?" He set himself off laughing again. He took another bite of the ice cream and pickles and moaned happily for effect.

Dean growled and left the imprint of his boot on Sam's shin, grinning when he yelped. "Laugh again and I will shave all that pretty hair off in your sleep."

Sam snickered behind his hand and nodded. "Sorry."

"Bitch." Dean studiously didn't look at him and dug into his burger.

"Dude. Even for you, that was one freaky ass dream." Sam waved a hand, grinning, to say he wasn't going to start laughing again. He would file it away for future use though. He made it through most of the ice cream, enjoying the difference in flavors and the occasional chuckle when Dean looked darkly at him. He pushed the bowl away and sighed. "I think I like this festival."

"Well I don't." Dean polished off the last of his burger and slapped Sam's hand as he reached for one of his fries. "You know how many idiots we're gonna have to dodge hunting this thing?"

Sam shrugged. "No different from any other hunt really. We just have to be more careful." He stood and darted his hand in, scoring a fry as Dean glared. "Bathroom."

"Fall in," Dean said cheerfully and watched him walk away. "Yep. Shave him bald." Sam stopped walking suddenly, lurching to a halt and Dean frowned. He just stood there and Dean saw his shoulders tense. Warning bells went off in his head and he rose, going quickly to him. "Sammy?"

The smile dropped from Sam's face, replaced by shock, the moment he saw her. She sat facing him with long blonde hair trailing over her shoulders, big blue eyes that crinkled when she smiled and could easily have been his Jess reborn if he didn't know better. It was like looking at her come back from the dead to taunt him with his guilt. He couldn't move and wasn't even sure he was breathing as he stared. "Jess?" Sam whispered and couldn't drag his eyes away from her.

"Sam." Dean took his arm and looked over his shoulder to see what had stopped him. He jolted in shock. The woman at the table ahead of them was the spitting image of Jess. She was missing the mole on her face that Dean had found endearing the moment he'd first seen her but this woman was a devastating reminder of what Sam had lost. She glanced up as Dean watched and saw them both staring. Her own eyes went wide in alarm.

"Sam. Come on." Dean pulled on his arm. "Sorry, Ma'am," Dean said quickly and turned Sam away bodily, having to force him to move. "It's alright, Sammy. It's not her. Walk buddy. That's it." He spoke softly, soothingly. His heart hurt once more for his little brother.

"Dean." Sam turned his head to see her again but Dean gave him a shake and kept pushing.

"Don't, Sam. Don't look back. It's not her." Dean tossed a twenty on their table as they passed, unwilling to stop and got Sam outside as quickly as he could through the see of prying eyes no doubt wondering why Sam had gone pasty white and looked to be in shock. He was. "Here we go. Get in." Dean opened the door of the Impala and pushed him down in the seat. He ran around to the driver's side. He got in and looked over and saw Sam still peering at the woman through the diner's windows.

"Dean, it's her." Sam's mind refused to make sense of it and he couldn't fight the small glimmer of hope that kindled in his heart.

"Sammy." Dean clasped a hand comfortingly around the back of his brother's neck, as he had so often before over their lives and pulled away. "You know it's not." He got them back to the motel in record time and bundled Sam out of the car and inside. Dean sat him on the side of the bed and knelt in front of him. "You're starting to worry me here, kiddo."

Sam blinked at him, his mind still reeling. It had been the last thing he'd expected. Seeing the woman had been a slap in the face. For a moment, he hadn't seen the diner; he'd seen their bedroom and Jess, her beautiful form bleeding and burning on the ceiling. His inability to save her choked him, and he felt the first hot tear make its way down his cheek.

"Maybe she's not dead," Sam said softly, pleadingly. "Maybe something happened or brought her back. What about Mom? Her spirit was still…"

"Sam." Dean reached up and gave him a gentle shake. "She's gone, Sam. That woman just looks like her. That's all. It happens. It's not her." His voice was sad and he gentled his grip on Sam's arms. "I'm sorry." He had his own guilt to deal with for Jess. He would forever wonder if she would still be alive if he hadn't gone to get his brother, if it was his fault she had died when he'd taken away her only protection. Dean shook his head and reminded himself that it would have happened anyway only he wouldn't have been there to save Sam and that was unacceptable.

Sam closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face, shaking himself out of the fugue he'd slipped into. "I'm sorry. God, I just…she looked so much like her."

"Don't worry about it." Dean moved to sit beside him and bumped his shoulder lightly. "You gonna be alright?" It was a stupid question, he knew, but he didn't know what else to ask at that point, and his brother, in true Winchester fashion, nodded.

"Yeah." Sam wiped the last of the tears from his face. "Just caught me off guard." He looked over at his brother with a small smile. "Thanks for, you know, getting me out of there before she thought I was stalking her or something."

"What are big brothers for?" Dean smiled back and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Sam stood and rolled his neck, relieving the tension there and headed for the bathroom. "Just gonna wash up."

Dean watched him go and close the door and sighed. He knew Sam was going in the bathroom to have a cry and get it out, a theory that was proven as he heard the sink turn on and the water splashing out as high as it would go to mask any sound. He scrubbed his hands over his face and cursed the bastard that had taken away the women in their lives. Dean got up and flipped on the police scanner as he went to the weapons bag and pulled it open and started rifling through it. The glimpse he'd had of the flying creature told him it was big enough they were going to need some firepower.

The scanner crackled to life ,and Dean listened as the voice of the dispatcher called units to the scene of another possible animal attack and death.

"Ah, hell." Dean groaned. He shoved the guns back in the bag and went to the bathroom door. He knocked. "Hey, Sam. We gotta shag ass. There's been another death. Come on." He listened to the water shut off and a moment later the door opened revealing red-rimmed but dry-eyed little brother. "You good?"

"I'm fine." Sam managed a smile and grabbed his jacket. "Feds?"

"Yeah. Get your badge." Dean made sure he had his own and pulled the door open for him. "It's about two miles from where we were earlier."

Dean kept silent on the drive, letting Sam stare out the window at the town and the mass of tourists. He'd figure out a way to snap him out of it later if Sam didn't do it himself. He pulled up behind a crowd of onlookers at the edge of the forest and sighed.

"This is why I hate tourists." Dean slapped Sam's arm. "Come on. Those puppy-eyes of yours oughta get us through the crowd."

"Shut up." Sam glared at him and climbed out of the car. "You're not funny."

"Yeah, I am," Dean grinned and led the way into the crowd. He grabbed Sam's arm as the first few people looked back at him in irritation and pushed his little brother in front. "Turn on the charm, Sammy."

"I think I hate you," Sam muttered, but he did his best, smiling and apologizing as they pushed their way to the front of the group and then ducked under the tape. "Afternoon, Officer." Sam took out his FBI badge and held it out for the harassed-looking officer. "Here to take a look at the body."

The officer snorted. "What's left of it. Go on." He waved a hand and let them stride past. "Hope you didn't eat today."

Dean chuckled. "Somehow, I'm betting we've seen worse." He homed in on three cops and a man in a blue jumpsuit who was likely the local medical examiner. He strode up to them and got his first look. The body, or what was left of it, had been well chewed and, unless he was mistaken, dropped from a height to land where it lay. He held his badge out. "FBI. Damn. That used to be a guy or a girl?"

"Male." The man in the blue jumpsuit looked up with a grim smile. "I'm Landers, the M.E. I'd have expected someone from Fish and Game before a Fed."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, well, it got shunted to us."

"Looks like he was dropped," Sam commented, seeing how the body lay in a depression in the earth.

"Good eye." Landers nodded and looked down again. "Poor sucker. Bear must have tossed him up in one of these trees and he fell out later."

"Bear. Right." Dean rolled his eyes and didn't argue. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned, expecting Sam and instead found a uniformed officer. "Can I help you?"

"Uh…Dean?" Sam recognized the man's face and smirked. This should be interesting.

Dean looked down at the cop, frowned and then his eyes went wide. "Oh, boy."

"Wish I'd known you were a Fed last night." The officer said and glared at Dean. "Don't play pool like a Fed, that's for sure."

Dean groaned. It was the last man he'd fleeced at pool the night before. "Well, I sure wish I'd known you were local PD." He held out a hand with a smile and hoped their cover wasn't about to be blown. "No hard feelings?"

Rather than take his hand or answer, the officer continued to stare, and Sam had to turn away and smother a laugh as Dean squirmed under the scrutiny. The depression he'd been falling into since the diner slipped away while Dean stuttered, and he waited to hear Dean talk his way out of this one.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_To Be Continued...  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Dean looked down at the cop, frowned and then his eyes went wide. "Oh, boy."_

_"Wish I'd known you were a Fed last night." The officer said and glared at Dean. "Don't play pool like a Fed, that's for sure."_

_Dean groaned. It was the last man he'd fleeced at pool the night before. "Well ,I sure wish I'd known you were local PD." He held out a hand with a smile and hoped their cover wasn't about to be blown. "No hard feelings?"_

_Rather than take his hand or answer, the officer continued to stare, and Sam had to turn away and smother a laugh as Dean squirmed under the scrutiny. The depression he'd been falling into since the diner slipped away while Dean stuttered, and he waited to hear Dean talk his way out of this one._

**_CHAPTER 4_ **

Sam took pity on his brother and stepped in front of him. The officer had a hand resting on his sidearm, and while Sam knew he wouldn’t pull it and shoot at a crime scene, it was upping the tension level. He needed to defuse it. “Officer, believe me I sympathize. He’s my partner.” Sam rolled his eyes and smirked. “Do you have any idea how many times a week he hands me my ass at pool?” He saw the officer’s lips twitch and knew he had him. Sam waved a hand back at Dean. “Asshole hasn’t had to pay for a dinner in like…three months.”

“Not my fault you suck,” Dean said and laughed, catching on to what Sam was doing. “You spent less time checking out asses, you might get a ball in the pocket once in a while.”

“What?” Sam turned and glared at him. “Dude, I’m not the one who can’t keep his gun in his holster.”

The officer snorted and then laughed, shaking his head. He reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand, giving it a shake. “I’ll take a re-match on that game sometime, Agent, and I promise,” he pulled on Dean’s hand hard enough to yank him an inch closer, “I won’t be such a pushover the next time. Gary Preston.”

Dean grinned sheepishly. “Dean. My partner, Sam. You’re on, but maybe not when we’re standing over a dead body.”

“I get off in an hour.” Gary fixed him with a challenging look. “Rosie’s bar in two?”

Dean glanced at Sam and smirked at the look on his face. “Sounds good. Better bring your A-game, Gary.”

“If you boys are done comparing the caliber of your firearms, could we perhaps get back to the business of murder?” Dr. Landers asked from where he crouched over the dead man and raised an amused brow at them.

Sam chuckled, liking the man and nodded as he knelt as well to get a closer look at the wounds. “These do look like an animal.”

“I’m gonna go work the crowd.” The officer nodded to each of them and left with a last, meaningful glance at Dean.

“I think I wounded his pride,” Dean said with a soft laugh.

“Maybe you should start asking for badges before you hustle.” Sam told him with a smirk as he stood.

“Come on.” Dean pulled his arm and headed away from the body and the M.E. “Thanks for stopping Officer Grumpy from putting holes in me.”

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Well, big brothers are hard to train. I’d hate to have to start over.” He ducked away from the slap Dean sent to his head and then frowned as he saw they were heading back to the car. “Dude, aren’t we going to search for the creature? What if it’s still here?”

Dean shook his head. “No way. It’s a friggin circus.” He waved an arm to point out the crowd of onlookers, the officers milling around them, and the sea of camera phones aimed at the scene.

“How the hell are we supposed to hunt this thing with an audience in town?” Sam asked as they ducked back under the tape and pushed through the crowd.

Dean waited until they were through the crowd before speaking. “I think we’re not gonna catch this thing while it’s hunting. We gotta find its nest.” He opened the door and looked across the roof of the Impala at Sam with a smile. “I say we gear up and search the woods where the first body showed up. Seems to me…”

“Its first kill would be near its nest. Yeah.” Sam finished his sentence with a nod.

“But first, I’m gonna…” He broke off and stared as the blonde woman from the diner came out of the crowd behind Sam and stopped, staring.

“Dean, what?” Sam saw him staring over his shoulder and turned. He felt the world slow as she stood before him again; the woman who could have been Jess’ twin. She stared at him now as he fought to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“Get in the car, Sam,” Dean told him. “Dude, in the car. Come on.” He went quickly around the car and took his brother’s arm, trying to push him into the seat and then sighed, rolling his eyes as he heard her voice.

“That’s them. The men from the diner.”

“Ah, crap,” Dean groaned and looked back at her. Gary stood beside her and glared darkly at both of them. Dean turned and stood in front of his brother as the cop came over to them with the woman.

“You wanna tell me what you two were doing making eyes at my sister and freaking her out?” The officer demanded angrily and slid an arm over her shoulders.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” Dean stared between them. “She’s your sister?”

“I’m sorry.” Sam whispered and couldn’t stop looking at her.

“You’re sorry? You creep out my little sister and you think that’s ok?” The officer growled at them and pushed her behind him. “What the hell kinda freaks are you?”

“Hey, step off, pal.” Dean put a hand on his chest in warning. “It wasn’t like that.” He looked down at the girl and tried a smile. “We’re sorry, alright? We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s my fault.” Sam stepped around Dean to look at her and swallowed hard. “I thought…I mean you look…” He swallowed again and took a breath. Speaking to her was harder than he thought it would be. Instead of trying to talk again, he took out his wallet, unfolded it and pulled out the picture he kept there. “Here,” He said gruffly and handed it to her.

“What?” She took the picture and looked at it and then stared in surprise as her jaw dropped open. “Oh, wow. Who is this?”

“Holy crap, Gena.” The officer bent over her shoulder and looked. He smirked. “Mom have a fling with the milkman we don’t know about?”

“Shut up, Gary.” Gena elbowed him roughly and looked up at Sam. She saw it now, the sorrow etched into his face as he looked at her and she softened. “Who was she?” She knew the woman in the picture was dead. She had to be. No one looked like that for someone who was still alive.

“My girlfriend,” Sam replied softly and took the picture back. He gently placed it back in his wallet and leaned in to the hand Dean laid on his shoulder for support. “I’m sorry I frightened you. It’s just…you look so much like her I…”

Gena sighed and glanced up at her brother. He nodded and she turned back to Sam. “It’s alright. I get it. I would have been stuck staring too. I’m sorry…about your girlfriend.”

“Come on. Car, Sammy. In.” Dean turned him and pushed him down in the passenger seat then shut the door before looking back to them. “It wasn’t that long ago. Seeing you just threw him hard.” He gave a weak smile to the officer. “I promise no more stalker stares.”

“I’ll still take that rematch. Rosie’s bar. I get off in a couple hours.” Gary nodded and smiled, letting the anger flow away. He pulled his sister in a little closer, thinking of the dead woman who so resembled her and shivering.

“Deal.” Dean smiled at them and headed around the car and got in. He reached over and squeezed the shoulder nearest him as Sam stared at the dash. “Hey, you good?”

Sam nodded and smiled over at him. His eyes were shiny but dry. “I’m ok. Really.”

“Good, ‘cause we’re gonna eat at the local watering hole.” Dean grinned at him as he backed away from the crime scene and down the road. “I have to throw a pool game and give Officer Gary back his pride. First, though, I ain’t shooting pool in a monkey suit.” He tugged at the lapel of his suit jacket with a grimace and got a chuckle from Sam as he drove.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean sat on the edge of his bed to pull his boots on and scratched absently at his ankle as Sam came out of the bathroom.

“Dude?” Sam scratched at his hip under his shirt. “I think something’s been chewing on me.” He stared at Dean scratching at his ankle and his eyes widened. “You too?”

“Dean looked down at his ankle with a frown. He brought his foot up over his knee and pulled the leg of his jeans back. There was a ring of small, red bites around his ankle. “What the hell is that?” He stood and went to Sam. “Lemme see.” Dean pulled Sam’s shirt up and found matching marks on his hip.

Sam looked over at the beds and groaned. “Oh man.”

“What?” Dean followed him as Sam went to the bed and flipped the blanket and sheet back.

“Please let me be wrong,” Sam muttered and pulled them all the way off to the foot of the bed. He let them fall in a pile on the floor and shuddered. “Fleas.” Small black bugs moved against the white sheet. There were only a dozen or so but it was enough to make his skin crawl.

“Oh HELL no,” Dean growled. “Get your gear. We are outta here.”

“Think I preferred the demonic desk clerk to this.” Sam shook his head and quickly packed up the few things he had. It took them only moments and they were heading outside. He tossed his bag in the trunk alongside Dean’s.

“Man if my baby gets friggin fleas…” Dean stated darkly.

Sam watched him stalk off to the office and chuckled, then bent to attack his own ankle and the itching there. By the time Dean came back, he’d searched himself and found numerous bites but no fleas, thank goodness. “What’d the clerk say?” he asked as he slid into the car beside his brother.

Dean snarled. “Told me it was all in my head.”

“And?” Sam asked, knowing from his face there was more to it.

“I offered to take him to our room and shove his face into the damn bed.” Dean smiled then as he pulled away from the motel. “He gave us our money back.”

Sam chuckled and then sighed, renewing his itching. “I can feel my skin crawling.”

“Don’t talk about it dammit,” Dean cussed and bent, trying to scratch at his ankle as he drove.

A half hour later they were in a new motel and a new room and relieved enough to find it bug free to not mind the questionable décor of the room. The Boone lodge motel boasted rooms with handmade, garish quilts on the beds, faded wood paneling and art school looking paintings of Daniel Boone covering the walls. It was a little disconcerting, as though Boone was looking down on them wherever they went. There was even a painting of him in the bathroom which Dean had pulled it off the wall and shoved it in a closet, commenting that he didn’t need a picture of a dead guy watching him take a leak.

They had changed, slathered themselves in the motel’s cheap lotion to stop the itching, and hauled ass to the bar, arriving in time to see Officer Gary Preston heading in. Several hours later, Dean had won a game, thrown a game, and was in the process of expertly pretending to lose another while Sam sat at a table off to the side. Sam divided his attention between watching his brother shoot pool, laugh with Gary, and flirt with the blond who’d attached herself to him and his own companion. She wore short, flirty brown hair with whiskey brown eyes and tapped Sam’s beer with her own to draw his attention back once more.

“So is he winning, Sam?”

Sam smiled over at her and didn’t mind the warm hand that rubbed along his back. He shook his head. “Nope. He’s losing.” He chuckled and drank from his bottle. “So what is it you do again, Laura?”

Laura laughed softly and put her face next to his ear. “I spend my days off in bars looking for delicious men to lose myself in for a few hours.” She nipped lightly at the lobe of his ear, enjoying the shiver she felt under her hand. “You are definitely delicious, Sam.”

Sam sucked in a breath and looked up as a round of cheers came from the pool table. Dean was shaking hands with Gary and handing over a handful of cash with a smile. He nodded when his brother looked over at him and grinned.

“We should go somewhere with less of a crowd.” Laura whispered in his ear and pressed up against his side.

“Oh, I, uh…” Sam stuttered and looked down at her warm eyes. “I don’t…”

“Honey, if you let him talk, you’ll end up alone.” Dean’s voice broke in, and Sam looked up in surprise to find him next to the table with another grin in place. Dean leaned and down fixed Sam with a stern glare. “Dude, just do it. You can’t be celibate forever and, man, you need to relieve some damn stress.” Dean chuckled and Sam glared back at him while he reddened. “It’s ok to feel good once in a while, Sammy.” He raised his beer to his brother and then let the blonde on his arm pull him away toward the back of the bar.

“Celibate?” Laura purred in his ear and lowered her head to nip at his neck. “You’re not a monk are you?”

“Uh, no,” Sam worked to relieve the flush in his cheeks and shook his head.

“Prove it, Sam.” Laura pulled his beer form his hand and set it beside her own. “Your brother’s right. A little good sex can fix a lot of things.” She tugged him to his feet, enjoying the almost virgin tentativeness he was showing. “Trust me, I’m more than good.”

Sam let Laura pull him away from the table. He sent a look over his shoulder but couldn’t see his brother anymore and sighed. He was just buzzed enough to not fight her as she led him out of the bar. “Where are we going?”

Laura smiled and pulled him through the night air and around the side of the bar to a large, black SUV with tinted windows parked against the wall and away from prying eyes. She took out her keys and unlocked the back door. She turned and pulled him in against her in the open door. “I don’t want a relationship.” She stretched onto her toes to feather kisses along his jaw. “Don’t even want the night.” Laura ran a hand down his back and cupped it around his ass, pulling him in harder. “Just right now, Sam. Come play with me?”

Sam shivered under her hands and finally felt the tension melt away to be replaced by another, much more pleasurable sensation. He smiled and took her hips in his hands. “Ok.” He lifted her up suddenly, smirking when she squealed softly, and put her onto the seat.

“Get in here.” Laura shivered with the strength of him as he climbed and picked her up again while he sat, landing her in his lap. She straddled him and reached out to pull the door shut.

Sam ran his hands up her thighs, under her little skirt to her hips and groaned. “Holy crap.” She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Laura laughed and shifted, moving against him. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and quickly tugged his shirts over his head before capturing his mouth with her own. She moaned happily as she ran her hands over his sculpted chest. “Good lord, Sam.”

Sam growled into her mouth, bit at her lower lip, and made quick work of the buttons on her blouse. He felt her hands at the waist of his jeans and leaned back to give her room. He groaned again as she bit and nipped along his neck. He grunted as pleasure washed over him, her fingers finding their way into his jeans and pulling him free.

“Oh, I knew it,” Laura moaned and grinned while she squeezed him with her hand, making him throw his head back on a gasp. “I want this.” She grazed her teeth on his chin as she twisted her hand just so and earned another moan from him. “Now.”

Sam’s head was filled with the buzzing of pleasure as she worked him with an expert hand. He dipped a hand between her legs and held her up with his other arm when she arched back on a soft cry. “Hold on to me.” Sam took her hips again and lifted her, then lowered her down. He captured her lips and swallowed the cry of pleasure, mixing it with his own, and let the feel of her around him, hot and wet, wash away the last few days in a tidal wave of pleasure.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean laughed as Krysta pushed him into the ladies’ room and then turned, locking the door before she jumped up into his arms and dove into his mouth. “Got a motel room, you know,” Dean muttered against her lips and then moved down to her neck. “Or a car outside,” He chuckled as she tightened her grip around his neck. “Someone’s gonna hear us in here.”

“Good,” Krysta moaned as Dean unbuttoned her slacks and pushed them down, letting them fall to the floor. She pulled her own shirt over her head and leaned into him as he deftly unhooked her bra and then dove down to her chest, laving the exposed skin with his tongue. “Oh, hell, yes.”

Dean growled against her chest as he ran his tongue around her full, firm breasts while they heaved beneath him and grinned. He let his hands roam down to cup beneath her rear while she unzipped him and shoved the denim down below his hips.

Krysta moaned and her eyes fell closed as when she looked and slid a hand over the hard length of him. “Oh, honey. God was kind.”

Dean chuckled. “You have no idea.” He tightened his grip below her ass and grinned. “But you’re about to find out.” He lifted her up in one motion, pinned her back to the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist, and slid into her.  

“Oh YES!” Krysta cried out and felt her eyes rolling back in her head as he moved with powerful thrusts against her.

Dean dropped his head to her neck and bit along her collar-bone. He took one of her legs and pulled it up, propping it on his shoulder to sharpen the angle and groaned as her cries grew louder and his own head began to swim with pleasure.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam lay spent, propped up across the backseat of Laura’s SUV with her curled on top of him as they both fought to regain their breath. He grinned as she traced light fingers along his bare chest down to his hip. “Thank you.”

“Oh, no, big man. Thank you.” Laura said breathlessly and sat up, indulging herself by running her fingers through his mop of dark hair. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever made me pass out.”

Sam chuckled. “You didn’t pass out…much.”

Laura laughed and leaned down to plant a chaste kiss on his nose. “Close enough, lover.” She enjoyed the feeling of her legs, as though they’d gone to jelly on her, and tugged her blouse up from the floor, pulling it on. “Sure do hope I run into you again someday.”

Sam smiled, pleased with her and himself, and pulled his jeans back up to fasten them before he sat up and looked for his shirts.

“Front seat,” Laura said with a laugh, and reached over them to come back with his shirts and handed them to him.

They dressed themselves, exchanging laughing kisses and caresses, and finally Sam stood and waved as she pulled away. He smiled and took a deep breath. There was something to be said for Dean’s way of doing things sometimes, he thought. Sam twitched his shirts into place and headed back around the front of the bar. The door opened, and he watched Dean come out with a satisfied smile in place and a swagger in his step….or more of a swagger than usual.

“Dude!” Dean grinned, catching sight of his brother. He walked over and studied his face. His grin grew. “You got your pipes cleaned but good.”

“Aw, come on!” Sam groaned, feeling his face redden.

Dean chuckled. “Yep. Knew it. Good boy.” He slapped Sam’s shoulder and laughed as his hand was batted away.

“Dude, you suck.” Sam rolled his eyes and followed him down the sidewalk toward the car.

“Not according to Carrie…no wait, Krysta,” Dean nodded happily.

“Hey, asshole!”

Dean turned and looked back with the shout and frowned as a large, leather-clad man with a dark beard stalked out of the bar toward him. “What?” He groaned as Krysta came out on the man’s heels and took hold of the back of his leather vest. “Well, this isn’t gonna be good.”

“You banged my wife in the damn bathroom?” The man stomped over to Dean and Sam and cracked his knuckles. He was maybe six feet tall but built like a line-backer.

“Whoa. Wife?” Dean threw his hands up and looked around the man’s shoulder to Krysta whose hair was still in disarray from his attentions. “Seriously? You’re friggin’ married?”

“Baby, you know what the judge said!” Krysta pulled at her husband. “Baby, come on, it didn’t mean anything!”

Dean watched as her “Baby” advanced on him menacingly. “Look, man, I had no idea. I swear I wouldn’t have touched her if…”

“You banged my girl.” The man rolled his shoulders to loosen them. “I bang you.”

“Ok, you know that just sounded wrong, and I’m flattered and all, but…” Dean chuckled and backed up a step with a smirk.

“Uh, Dean…” Sam put a hand on his shoulder to warn him.

“Baby, stop!” Krysta cried out and stepped between them, slapping her hands to her husband’s chest.

Dean, like Sam, was reaching for the woman to move her out of harm’s way so neither saw him reach into his back pocket.

Dean grunted in surprise as the man’s hand darted out around Krysta and something hard hit his chest. He cried out as an electric current suddenly jolted through him and felt his eyes rolling into his head as he dropped while Krysta screamed.

Sam fell back from Dean with a short cry as a shock of electricity crossed from his brother’s shoulder into his hand. “Shit!” He watched the woman’s husband ride Dean down to the ground, keeping the Taser in contact the whole time while Dean’s body twitched and he saw red. Sam shouted in anger and lunged. He tackled the man from his brother, rolling them both to the side and landed a solid punch to the bearded face, then reached down, wrenched the Taser free and jammed it into the biker’s stomach. Sam watched him jerk and cry out for a few seconds and then threw the thing away.

“Touch my brother again and I’ll put that little toy somewhere more effective,” Sam warned and stood. Krysta gave a scream and dropped to her husband’s side. Sam ignored her and went to his brother. “Dean?” Sam pulled him up and frowned when he didn’t stir. He put a hand to his neck and relaxed slightly as he felt his heart beating strongly. “Ok. Ok.” Sam looked up and decided they needed to get out of there before someone called the police.

Krysta’s cries followed Sam as he pulled his brother up and dragged him over to the Impala. He opened the back door and slid Dean in across the seat. Sam closed the door and ran around to the driver’s side. “Dammit.” He leaned over the back seat and fumbled, getting the keys out of Dean’s front pocket before turning back and quickly got them moving away from the bar as the first siren sounded in the distance. Sam forced himself to keep to the speed limit back to the motel so as not to draw attention and kept one eye on the rearview mirror and Dean’s pale face.

He parked outside their room and quickly got out, opening the back door and slid his arms under Dean’s shoulders. Sam pulled him out so he was sitting on the seat propped up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around him to pull him out.

“S’mmy?” Dean’s voice was slurred and tired.

“Dean?” Sam smiled and moved slightly so he could see his brother’s face. Relief flowed through him now that Dean was awake, or trying to be.

“Why we cuddlin’?” Dean struggled to open his eyes and peer up at his brother, then groaned. “Wha’ the hell hit me?”

“Krysta’s husband. He tased you.” Sam took hold of him again and dragged him off the seat, standing Dean up and holding on as he threatened to go back down.

Dean shook his head to knock loose the cobwebs and grinned ruefully. “I’d say no more bathroom sex, but…damn. Was worth it.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re such a man-ho. Come on.” He half-carried Dean to the room and inside as he got his legs under him again. When he went to sit on the bed, Sam stopped him. “No. No just, hang on.” He leaned his brother against the wall by the door and grabbed Dean’sbag from the foot of the bed.

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean watched Sam take his bag into the bathroom and come back out. “Why does my bag need to be in the bathroom?”

Sam took his arm and got him moving again. “Because you uh…tased unconscious, remember? Your head still foggy?”

Dean nodded, confused, and then, as they reached the door of the bathroom, it struck him as a peculiar feeling made itself known. He looked down and growled. “Son of a BITCH!” He shoved free of Sam when he chuckled and went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut while his face burned with embarrassment. He’d pissed himself thanks to all the voltage coursing through him.

Sam gave up and bent over laughing as Dean’s string of profanity continued loud and long in the bathroom. “It’s a perfectly…” Sam wheezed and rubbed a hand over his face. “…perfectly normal reaction, Dean.”

“Shut up, Sam!” Dean shouted from behind the door. “Not helping!”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

“Dude, I swear, you laugh one more time…” Dean left the sentence hanging and glared over at his brother as they walked. They were loaded for bear and searching the local woods for the site of the creature’s first attack, and Sam had yet to stop letting out the occasional snicker.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Sam shook his head, still smiling and put an extra arm length between them, anticipating a slap to the head. He played his flashlight up into the trees, alert for any sign of Birdzilla, as Dean had taken to calling the creature.

“Wait, you hear that?” Dean brought an arm up to stop him and listened. The sound of voices carried on the night breeze through the trees and he scowled. “Dude, they sound like…”

“Kids,” Sam finished, and started walking again at a much faster pace. “What the hell are kids doing out here this time of night?” He broke into a jog with Dean beside him, following the sound of the young voices calling out. “What are they saying?”

“I dunno.” Dean paced beside him, dodging through and around trees and skidded to a stop in a large clearing. Two young boys were dashing back and forth across the open space, shouting.

“Stripes! Stripes come’ere!” The taller of the two boys called and then turned, seeing Sam and Dean, and froze with wide eyes. “Uh-oh.” He scrambled over to the smaller boy and tugged him quickly behind him (in a gesture Dean recognized all too well.) “Joey, shuddup.”

“What’s’it, Jake?” Joey peered out from behind his arm. “Who’re they?”

“What are you kids doing out here? Where are your parents?” Sam held his shotgun behind his leg and smiled, trying to put them at ease. “It’s not safe out here, you know.”

“Duh, we know that.” Jake scowled up at Sam and had to lean back to see his face.

Dean chuckled at the tone of voice the kid used. The oldest was no older than ten while the younger looked vaguely like Sam had at seven; too short with a baby face and ridiculous shaggy hair. “I’m Dean. This is my little brother, Sammy.”

“Sam,” Sam corrected in a tired voice and rolled his eyes.

Dean grinned when the boys laughed and Joey peeked out behind the other boy again. “He’s your little brother?” Joey asked and looked up at Sam in surprise. “But he’s, like, giant sized!”

“Oh, man.” Sam ran a hand over his face as Dean started laughing.

Dean knelt to be on eye level with the boy and nodded. “Little dude, you watch, one of these days, your big brother’s gonna be looking up at you.”

“Will not.” Jake reached behind him and snagged Joey in a headlock. “He’s a midget.” He stillkept his brother behind him and looked at Dean’s green eyes seriously. “We don’t know you. You shouldn’t be talking to us.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you’re not wrong, but we’re out here to catch the thing that’s been hurting people.”

“Bear’s gonna eat my kitty!” Joey said suddenly in a scared voice. “We gotta find Stripes, Jake, please?”

“Wait. You’re out here after a cat?” Dean rocked back on his heels and shook his head. “Look you can find the cat tomorrow with your parents.”

“Don’t have none,” Joey wriggled out of his brother’s arm to look at Dean. “We got foster parents. They’re mean.”

“They’re not mean, runt.” Jake rolled his eyes.

“They don’t wanna let me keep Stripes.” Joey said fiercely. “They’re mean.”

“Oh, they’ll let you keep the stupid cat. All you gotta do is give that look to Patty.” Joey snorted. “She can’t say no to Joey’s look.”

Dean smirked and glanced over at his own brother. “I know the feeling. It’s a little brother thing.”

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam glared at him even as he felt his face begin to burn. “I do not have a look.”

“Dude, you so do.” Dean leaned in, as if conferring a confidence with the two boys. “Sammy’s got this puppy dog eye thing that makes everybody’s mother melt.”

The boys laughed and smiled up at Sam who threw his hands out in the air and stalked away. He heard a rustling in a bush ahead of him and slowed. Sam went cautiously to it, raising his gun as he peered around it and then smirked. “Hey, boys.” He bent down and stuck a hand into the underbrush, coming out with an orange and white striped kitten that instantly began to purr. “I think I found your missing kitten.”

“Stripes!” Joey exclaimed and dashed across the clearing to Sam. He eagerly took the little kitten and cuddled her close up under his chin with a happy giggle. “Jake, look!”

Sam watched him and smiled. His smile turned to a gasp as pain suddenly lanced into his head. He wrapped his hands around it and heard his brother call his name as he dropped to his knees. Sam heard himself moan with the agony, and then the clearing, the boys, and his brother were swept away in a wash of color and sound. His vision tunneled in and the fuzzy, indistinct image of a person appeared. He couldn’t clearly see it, but he could hear the voice. A woman spoke softly, muttering words he didn’t understand. The vision changed and spun, making his stomach churn with the sensation of falling, and then he was high in the sky. Sam could still hear the woman’s voice and, below him, saw the form of the creature gliding through the night sky. The voice rose in volume and, below the creature, a clearing appeared. Within it, Sam saw the two brothers, Jake and Joey and beyond them Dean and himself on their knees. The creature gave a short, angry cry and dipped into a dive. It aimed not for him or Dean but for the children, and Sam would have screamed to warn them if he could as the vision spun into blackness around him.

“Sam?” Dean stood as he saw his brother hunch over and wrap his hands around his head, his eyes squeezing shut in obvious pain. “Shit. Sammy?” Dean ran to him and caught him as he swayed and his knees buckled. He went to the ground with him and held on to his shoulders as Sam groaned.

“Is he alright?” Jake came over with his brother and both boys stared.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Just a headache.” Dean kept his attention on his brother, whose eyes had opened and were now staring in that terrible, vacant way that Dean hated so much -- the vacant stare of a vision overwhelming him. “Come on, Sammy.” Sam wasn’t breathing. He seemed to be holding his breath, but Dean could feel his pulse galloping beneath the hand he put to his neck.

“Doesn’t look fine.” Jake pulled his brother closer. “Why’s he staring like that?”

“Don’t worry about it. Sam?” Dean gave him a shake and was rewarded as Sam suddenly sucked in a breath and his eyes closed again. “Hey. Sammy. Talk to me.” Dean held him up when he tried to curl forward in a ball. “Hey, you’re kinda freakin’ the kids out here, little brother.” He didn’t mention his own worry. Every time Sam had one of his visions, Dean’s heart jumped into his throat and threatened to choke him with fear until the moment his brother came back again.

Dean turned to the kids. “You kids should head home now. Go on.”

“Yeah, uh, ok.” Jake wrapped an arm around his little brother and the kitten and turned away. “Thanks, dude.”

Dean nodded and put his attention back on his own little brother who was gasping in air and had a steely grip on Dean’s arms. “Hey. Slow it down, Sam. Breathe.”

Sam nodded as Dean’s voice broke through his heart thundering in his ears. He struggled against the confusion in his head and looked up, a sense of foreboding filling him. “Dean.” He glanced around the clearing and saw the boys walking away. “Oh, God. It’s coming!”

“What? Sammy, what’d you see?” Dean kept him steady as Sam lumbered to his feet. “Whoa, dude, what’s going on?”

Sam pulled himself free and started toward the boys. “It’s coming for them. It’s coming now.” He couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be too late.

“Shit, Birdzilla?” Dean looked up into the night sky and flinched in surprise as something huge and dark moved to blot out the stars above as it dove toward them. He looked back and saw Sam had outpaced him, sprinting to Jake and Joey.

“Get down!” Sam shouted as he neared. He leaned forward as he reached them and pushed both boys down into the long grasses as his vision played back in his head.

“Sam!” Dean yelled, and was knocked to the ground by a powerful force in his back. He rolled to a stop in the grass and picked his swimming head up at the sound of a sharp cry from his brother. The creature had Sam in its grasp and vanished over the treetops with him. “No!” Dean wanted to get up and run after him, but his head had other ideas and fell back into the grass with a thump as the world went dark around him.

Dean woke to the sensation of being shaken. “Knock it off, Sammy,” He grumbled.

“Mister? Please wake up!”

Dean’s eyes shot open at the sound of Jake’s voice. Both boys were huddled next to him and the memory of Sam being carried away drove him off the ground. “Where is he? How long have I been out?” He groaned as his back protested the movement and hunched over his knees where he sat.

“Just a minute.” Jake pulled his little brother in to his shoulder with a fearful look on his face. “Not even.”

“Did you see…” Dean broke off as the sound of muffled gunshots echoed through the trees. He jerked to his feet, ignoring the pain in his back. He ran a few steps and then stopped to look back. “Shit. Ok.” He went to the boys and pulled them both up. “You need to get out of here. I promise that thing’s not gonna come after you.”

“You mean alone?” Joey asked in a small voice and huddled closer to his big brother.

“You know the way home?” Dean looked to the older of the two and smiled when he nodded. “Good. You go as fast as you can and I promise you’ll be safe. Me and Sammy? We’re gonna take care of it.” He squeezed Jake’s shoulder. “And stay the hell outta these woods from now on. Go!”

Dean watched them scurry off into the trees and then broke into a run toward where the shots had come from. “Hang on, Sam.”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam twisted, trying to free himself from the painful grip of the claws digging in to his right shoulder as they rose up and just skimmed the tops of the trees. In a panic, he managed to get his left hand behind him and pulled his Taurus from his belt. He needed to get loose before they got any higher, he knew, and awkwardly aimed the gun over his shoulder and up toward the creature’s unprotected belly. He fired three shots that rang in his own ears even as the creature screamed. It faltered. It’s claws tightened once, agonizingly, and then Sam was falling.

He was only a few feet above the tops of the trees and crashed through the canopy. Sam flung his hands out to try and catch any branch as he fell. He lost his gun as he tumbled and after what seemed forever, hit the ground in a heap and rolled several feet.

“Crap,” Sam gasped. He lay still, afraid to move as a myriad of pains began to burn along his arms and legs, back and chest. His right shoulder was a misery. He could feel something warm and wet trickling beneath his shirt and hoped the bird thing’s claws hadn’t done too much damage.

A rustling sound came from above Sam and he froze, staring up into the darkened trees. The sound grew louder and was joined with a growling sort of roar as the boughs above him began to move.

“Oh, come on,” Sam groaned and pushed up on his elbows. He looked frantically around for any sign of his gun, but without a flashlight, he’d never see it in the dim light. Instead, he saw a massive old hollow tree toppled on its side nearby. It was the closest thing to cover he was going to find. “Move, Sam,” He told himself. Sam rolled to his hands and knees. He tried to get to his feet and ended up holding himself up on his arms with a moan as his back refused to straighten. The noise above him became more insistent, and he crawled for the old tree as fast as he could.

Sam reached the tree and turned to look back just as the creature dropped down from the trees with a scream and glared death at him. “Not good,” Sam gasped. He dove inside the tree and crawled back along its length, thankful that Birdzilla was far too large to come in after him. He flinched back as something crunched beneath his hands and gasped again as things began to crawl over them. “Oh, come on! Can I get a break?”

The creature thrust its head into the end of the log, making it shift. Sam rolled with the motion and leaned back against the wall. He stared down at the massive, furred head, taking a moment to study the features and then kicked out. His foot slapped into its beak and made it rear back. Sam braced himself against the inside of the trunk and stayed still, resisting the urge to squirm as he felt things begin to crawl over his arms and legs.

Several minutes later, he heard the sound of wings flapping and the forest became silent outside. Sam considered leaving the shelter of the tree and then shook his head at himself. Birdzilla was far too intelligent to have just given up. He decided to test his theory. He pulled off one of his sneakers and threw it out of the trunk. A moment later there was a roar and the creature’s shadow blocked the light as it pounced on his shoe.

“Dammit.” Sam groaned and thumped back as Birdzilla took wing once more. His shoe was gone. The sensation of things crawling on him was making his skin crawl, and the sensation grew as he felt something worming into his hair. He dug his fingers in and came out with something long and wriggling. “Gah!” Sam threw it from him, but felt more. He swiped along his legs with his left arm and realized they were centipedes; hundreds of centipedes in whose home he had taken refuge. “No, no, no.” They were everywhere and he felt them slide under the collar of his hoodie and t-shirt.

Sam dug his fingers beneath the cloth and tried to keep them from the burning, bleeding wounds in his shoulder. “Shit!” They were in his clothes and wriggling in his hair. He pulled at them and groaned when the bodies crushed in his grip in his hair. He wasn’t generally afraid of bugs, of all thing, but being trapped in the dark, confined space with God knew how many of the creepy crawly things, this was so far beyond his comfort zone he wanted to run screaming from the tree. He lurched away from the wall and moaned as the wounds in his right shoulder pulled painfully. He could still feel blood easing oozing down his back and chest and the sensation of centipedes walking through it and tracking wetly beneath his shirts was almost more than he could take.

He didn’t know how long he sat there and endured the centipedes. Sam was ready to face the creature again, even injured, alone, and unarmed rather than spend another minute covered in the insects. He pulled off his other shoe, grimacing as bugs squished beneath his fingers and tossed it out of the trunk to roll into the dim moonlight. Sam waited and hoped. Minutes passed with no sign of the creature and he sighed. He’d just have to risk it.

Sam scrambled out of the trunk as fast as his injuries would allow. His legs and back were stiffening with bruises from his bumpy fall through the trees. He emerged into the cooler air of the night and looked up, waiting for the creature to pounce on him. It didn’t, and he gusted a breath out in relief. He spent several minutes frantically pulling centipedes off his clothing and out from under it. He tugged out his under shirt and shook it awkwardly with one hand, shuddering as more centipedes fell out to wriggle away on the grass. Sam got to his feet and tried not to think too hard about the pieces of centipede he was leaving in his hair as he tried to remove the hitchhikers. The guts tangled his long hair and he swallowed hard against nausea as one centipede came down across his brow and under his bangs. He slapped it away and staggered off into the trees.

“Dean?” Sam called. He wrapped his left hand around his right shoulder, frowning as he felt heat beneath the shirts. He sighed. “Guess that explains why my head’s spinning,” Sam muttered. He used the trees to keep him upright as he walked and tried to keep his face up to the tree tops in case the creature came back. He frowned as he saw the moonlight fading quickly. Sam watched clouds quickly obscure the sky. They were dark and, as he silently hoped it wouldn’t rain, the first cold, fat raindrops began to fall and wet his face.

“Great,” Sam groaned and let his head fall forward as he leaned on a tree wearily. He was too warm as he shivered with each cool drop of rainwater that ran down his neck. His vision wavered and he made himself move again. Sam hoped he was going in the right direction. He hadn’t really seen anything when the creature had picked him up, too preoccupied with freeing himself before he ended up lunch. Lightning lit the sky and the trees around him, flashing in his eyes and making him moan.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean stood with his face turned up to the sky as rain poured down on him and lightning flashed. “Oh, come ON!” he shouted angrily, and ducked his head against the downpour, starting forward again. “How the hell am I supposed to see Birdzilla in this crap? Sam!” Dean yelled as he trudged through the trees, slipping as the ground quickly turned to mud. “Sammy!” He went to his knees and climbed back to his feet, grimacing at the mud that clung to him. “Awesome.”

The rain drove down making it hard to hear anything above the white noise. Dean’s flashlight was next to useless as the beam was diffused in the downpour and made him nearly blind. “Sam!” He stomped forward and then pinwheeled his arms in the air as his right foot found nothing but air ahead of him. Dean tried to throw himself back but it was too late; Gravity took over and he fell to roll down the side of a hill he hadn’t seen. He slid to a rest at the bottom and groaned, spitting mud, and had to wipe it out of his eyes before he could see.

Dean blinked, letting the heavy rain help clear his eyes and gasped as his brother staggered into view ahead of him. “Sammy!” He shouted and lurched to his feet. His brother didn’t stop ,however. He just kept slowly walking forward with his left hand clasped over his right shoulder and his head hanging down, wet hair swaying in front of his face like a curtain. “Sam?” Dean grabbed his elbows and steadied him when he jerked back. “Hey, hey! Sam!”

“Dean?” Sam looked up and had trouble seeing in front of him between his hair, the rain, and what he was beginning to think was delirium from fever.

“Yeah. Hey, you ok?” Dean brushed the wet hair out of his brother’s eyes and frowned. “How are you hot in this crap? Shit!” He exclaimed as Sam went down to his knees. Dean went with him and kept Sam from sliding to the muddy ground. “Sammy?” He put a hand to Sam’s right shoulder and pulled his brother’s away. Dean tugged his jacket aside and hissed in sympathy at the sight of blood. “Shit.”

“S’ok,” Sam muttered and closed his eyes, leaning in to the hand on the side of his neck.

“No, it’s not. Birdzilla do this?” Dean eased Sam’s collar from his neck to try and get a better look.

Sam nodded and raised his head, opening his eyes. “Put some holes in him.” He chuckled softly. “Pissed it off.” He looked over Dean’s shoulder, and his eyes widened as two eyes glowed out through the rain from the trees on the hill beyond them. He saw the creature move forward and reacted in a panic. Sam lunged forward and slammed Dean back into the ground as Birdzilla appeared and sailed through the space they had just occupied and then soared up into the rain and out of sight.

“Dean? Dean!” Sam rolled off his brother to the side and tapped his face a couple times.

“Knock it off.” Dean knocked Sam’s hand away while his head spun. He’d landed on something hard, probably a rock with his luck, and the back of his head was pounding. “What’d you do that for?”

“Birdzilla.” Sam let his head drop forward as the adrenaline washed out of his system and exhaustion took over again. “Sorry.”

“What?” Dean frowned and pushed up on his elbows until he was sitting. He ran his fingers back through his hair and couldn’t tell if it was mud or blood he felt. “What for?”

“Didn’t mean to hurt you.” Sam said softly.

“Dude, I’d be bird food if you hadn’t knocked me on my ass,” Dean snorted a laugh and took his brother’s good arm. “Come on. Gotta get you outta here.”

Sam struggled to his feet with his brother’s help and then clamped his hands onto Dean’s arm. “The boys! Are they alright?”

“Yeah, Sammy. They’re fine.” Dean shook his head, got a grip around his brother’s waist and started pulling him up the hill he had fallen down. He looked up and around the trees and spat rainwater as it flooded his face.

“Gonna need…holy water,” Sam mumbled as he trudged up the hill.

“Yeah.” Dean tightened his grip on his brother, easily feeling the unnatural fever heat coursing through him. There had most certainly been something on Birdzilla’s claws that shouldn’t be. “Here we go. Easy, buddy.” Dean half pulled, half carried Sam up and over the top of the hill. The trees were thicker there and lessened the rain pouring down on them.

“Sucks,” Sam stumbled and fought to keep his legs under him while his head swam and his shoulder burned. The pains from the bruising in his arms and legs had long fallen into the background, and he didn’t relish the thought of what they’d look like later.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, it does. Dude, you weigh too much.”

“Shuddup,” Sam grumbled and took some of his own weight back as they walked. “Lost my gun.” He looked over and scowled at the amused look on his big brother’s face. “Shot Birdzilla though. Pissed him off.”

“Remind me to buy that bird a beer.” Dean laughed and kept his hold on Sam when he tried to hit him and swayed. “What? You piss me off all the time. I can sympathize.”

“Such a jerk.”

“Suck it up, bitch.” Dean grinned and kept them moving, teasing Sam every couple minutes to keep him lucid. The heat he felt coming off him in spite of the rain was worrying him, and he dearly wanted to get a good look at the wounds in his right shoulder; Sam had yet to do more than curl the arm into his stomach.

The walk back seemed longer than it should have been. They were both drenched through by the time they reached the car. In spite of the chill from the rain, Dean cranked the air conditioner to try and cool his cooking brother, all the while grumbling about the mud they were getting all over his seats. After the look Dean had gotten at Sam’s shoulder in the car, he bypassed the motel and headed straight for the nearest hospital. He was fairly sure one of the creature’s claws had punctured a muscle. He drove with one hand on Sam’s chest to keep him from curling forward into the dash. Sam muttered occasionally, usually Jess’ name or Dean’s, and it spurred Dean to drive faster.

The hospital was small, little more than a glorified clinic, and Dean screeched the car to a stop outside the emergency door. He dashed around the car and pulled Sam out, unresisting. “Come on, little brother. Almost there.”

“Where?” Sam managed to get his head up but couldn’t make his blurred vision make sense of anything.

“Hospital. Don’t argue,” Dean ordered and lugged him through the open doors and into the waiting room. “Can I get some help here?” He shouted and breathed in relief as several nurses converged on them. He let them pull Sam from his arm and lay him out on a gurney. He balked at being left in the waiting room, but they refused to let him back until they’d had time to assess his brother.

“Can you tell us what happened?” A nurse asked as she handed him a clipboard with forms and a pen.

“Uh, bear. We were hunting in the woods.” Dean scrubbed a worried hand through his hair as Sam vanished through a door. “Caught us off guard.”

“Alright. We’ll take good care of him. Just fill these out and bring them up when you’re done.”

Dean nodded and dropped into an uncomfortable plastic chair with the clipboard. He wondered briefly what their Dad would say if he knew Dean had almost lost Sam to the damn creature. He shook his head and pushed that thought away. Time for guilt later, and he bent to the forms with a groan of frustration. “I hate these things.”

An hour later, having tried to clean up a little bit as best he could in the restroom, Dean leaned back in his same chair with nothing better to do than watch people come and go, nurses on their rounds and the occasional doctor. He watched one man coming back from the cafeteria with a tray of food and idly considered seeing if they had any decent coffee. He smirked when the man tripped, spilling his tray across the floor. A salt shaker dropped to shatter across the tile floor, white crystals spreading out in a spray. Dean lurched forward intently as one of the nurses nimbly danced back from the salt with a look of something close to fear on her face before she went around it and vanished again.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. There was only reason someone evaded contact with the purifying properties of salt in his world, and he didn’t believe in coincidences. Something hinkey was definitely going on. He stood and went to the desk, senses now on high alert.

“Can I help you?” The nurse looked up to him with a bored smile.

“Yeah, you can tell me where my brother is.” Dean leaned his elbows on the desk to get an unobtrusive closer look at her. He wrinkled his nose while she checked her screen and leaned back quickly as the cold chill of fear wormed through him. He smelled sulfur.

“Treatment room twelve.” The nurse looked back up and smiled again, waving an arm toward the double doors. “I’ll have someone come get you when…”

“I’ll find it,” Dean cut her off, and strode to the doors over her protests. He pushed through into the hall beyond, needing to find his brother. They were in danger; Sam was in danger, and Dean had left him unprotected. He stalked down the hall, eyeing everyone he passed suspiciously. A voice cut above the background noise of the emergency room suddenly, and Dean broke into a run, following the sound of Sam’s pain-filled shout.

“Sammy!” Dean burst into a room and slid to a stop. His brother lay shirtless on a bed, his wrists and ankles in restraints with a nurse at his shoulder. She set aside a bottle of peroxide and laid a bandage over the wounds then looked up at Dean. Her eyes slid to solid black as he watched. Dean lurched forward to grab her.

“Stay, Winchester.” The nurse smiled and slid a scalpel along Sam’s throat as he panted, half unconscious on the bed.

Dean caught himself on the end of the bed and glared death at her. “What the hell do you want?”

“You were supposed to stay in the waiting room.”

Dean spun and growled at the doctor who came in behind him. “What the hell do demons want in a damn hospital?”

The doctor wagged a finger playfully at him as he leaned against the door, completely at ease. He blinked and his eyes turned black as well. “That’s not for you to know. We aren’t hurting anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He spread his hands and smiled. “We are actually doing the job of our meatsuits, and quite well, I might add.”

“What?” Dean stared, surprised and took a step closer to the nurse. “Why would you even bother?”

“Nope, again, you don’t get to know that. We are under orders to blend in, but…I’m betting that doesn’t extend to John Winchester’s sons.” He gave Dean a feral smile. “And how nice of you to give yourselves over into our tender care.”

“Another step and little brother will be light a few pints,” the nurse warned Dean as he tried to ease closer to her again.

“If you’re under orders to fit in, offing us ain’t gonna help that.” Dean knew they had no chance to fight their way out, not with Sam down. Talking was all he had left, and he hoped his poker face worked on demons. “You said your boss wants you to blend in. You think our dad’s not gonna wonder how we got ganked in a damn hospital? You think every Hunter in a hundred mile radius isn’t gonna start lookin’ at this place?”

The doctor studied him for a moment and then sighed. He gave an elegant shrug and straightened from the door. “Suit yourself. I suppose we can’t risk an army of you idiots raining down on us before we have a chance to…relocate.” He smiled and nodded. “And we will. Fine. Take your brother and go.”

The nurse straightened from Sam with an irritated sigh. “I’d go quickly if I were you.” She dug her fingers into Sam’s shoulder, making him moan in pain. “Before we get the urge to…play.”

Dean growled angrily as she trailed the scalpel lightly down Sam’s chest as she eased around the bed and away from Dean before slipping out the door. As soon as they were gone, Dean rushed to his brother’s side. “Sam? Sammy! Wake up. We have got to get the hell outta Dodge.”

“M’wake,” Sam said and rolled his head into the hand Dean put on his neck. “Think I saw…demons?”

“Yeah. Dude, this place is General Hospital for hell spawn. Come on.” Dean slid an arm behind his shoulders and lifted him up so he was sitting. “Not gonna leave us alone for long.”

“Where’s my shirt?” Sam looked blearily around the little room.

Dean spotted the shredded remains of his shirts in a pile on the floor. “Uh…toast. Hang on.” He saw Sam’s jacket hung over a stool and grabbed it. “Here.” He slid it on his brother’s arms and patted his back. “You ready?”

Sam nodded. “No.” He smirked as Dean snorted and let him pull his legs off the bed and then stand him up.

“What happened to the fever?” Dean asked as he pulled Sam’s good arm over his shoulder, noting that he felt much cooler than he had in the forest.

Sam shuddered. “Holy water. They cleansed the wounds. Think they enjoyed it.”

Dean snarled as they started for the door, enraged that they had caused his brother that kind of pain and he hadn’t been there, but still somewhat surprised that they had actually performed any real healing, especially on a Winchester. “Alright, just keep walking. Don’t stop.”

“How many are there?” Sam looked up as they went down the hall and startled to see nurses and doctors stopped in their tracks, over a dozen of them, and all staring fixedly at the brothers with jet black eyes. “Crap.”

“Keep walking,” Dean reminded him, and kept them moving. It was a nerve-wracking two minutes until they finally cleared the emergency room doors and stepped outside once more. He dragged Sam to the Impala and shoved him into the car then ran around and slid behind the wheel. He didn’t take a breath until they were away from the hospital and gave a full body shudder. “Man, that was like being caught in a scene from Invasion of the Body Snatchers!”

Sam nodded and slid down in the seat, letting his head roll onto the back of the seat. He was exhausted between the creature, the trip through the forest, and the painful purification of the holy water.

Dean glanced at him and saw him slip into sleep with his head rolled to face him. “That was too close, dude,” He said softly. Dean pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed their father. He needed to know about the hospital. It rang several times and then went to voicemail, making Dean growled angrily until it beeped. “You know, Dad, this would have been a good time to actually pick up the damn phone. It’s not like we don’t know you’re nearby!” He stopped and took a breath to calm himself and left a terse message informing Dad about the hospital and its demon employees.

Dean drove along the back roads, leery of the main road back into town in case they were being followed. The rain had gone from downpour to steady drizzle as the headlights cut into the night on the lonely road. He reached to turn on the radio and startled as the engine suddenly began knocking. It sputtered and died as he looked on in shock and the car coasted to a stop on the side of the road.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed.

Sam jerked awake at the curse and looked around in concern. “Dean? What’s wrong?” He looked over at his brother and frowned. Dean was just staring at the dials on the dashboard with an odd face. “Dean?”

“We’re, uh…we’re out of gas,” Dean informed him and felt a blush crawl up his face. “How the hell is my baby out of gas?”

Sam eased himself back up in the seat. “Demons?” He peered out into the rainy night ahead and behind them but saw nothing. “Maybe they were hoping to catch us on the road.”

“Well, now I’m glad I went the back way. Dammit!” Dean slapped a hand against the steering wheel.

“Hey.” Sam touched his arm and pointed off to their left. “There’s a house. Lights are on. Go on. Get help. I’ll be fine.”

Dean glared over at him as Sam started to slide back down the seat. “No way, dude. You’re coming. You think I’m leaving you out here alone with a demon posse breathing down our necks?”

“Probably don’t even know where we are,” Sam said and closed his eyes.

“Nope.” Dean shut off the car and got out. He went to the trunk, opened it and took out a spare handgun then slapped it shut and went around to the passenger door. He opened it and bent down to his brother. “Time to go.” He had to pull Sam out, careful of his right shoulder. “Here.”

Sam took the gun Dean handed him and slid it behind his back, shivering as cold metal touched his bare back. “Need a shirt.”

“It can wait. Move.” Dean tugged him into motion and kept a constant watch on the road behind them as they crossed the tended field toward the house. They stumbled up the steps of the front porch, and, as they did, the light above them glowed to life and the front door opened to reveal an elderly woman with a halo of silver hair and kindly blue eyes.

“Oh, my goodness,” She exclaimed in surprise.

“Uh, hi.” Dean smiled at her and tried to put her at ease. “Our car ran out of gas over there and we were hoping maybe you had some to spare somewhere.”

“Oh you poor things. Come in! Come in!” She opened the door wide. “Let old Sylvie take care of you. Is he alright?” She stepped forward fearlessly and looked up into Sam’s weary hazel eyes.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Just lazy.” Dean smirked and watched Sam roll his eyes.

“Come on then, get inside.” Sylvie shooed the men into her house and steered them to her living room. “Put him on the couch there. What happened to you, sweetie?”

Sam could only watch, bemused, as Sylvie descended on him. In moments she had him out of his jacket, Dean shoved into a chair with his feet up by the cheery fire, and was tutting over Sam’s shoulder. “I’m alright. Really.” Sam smiled up at her.

Sylvie snorted and waved a hand. “Look like a bear’s chewtoy, son. Sit still while I get some coffee on and food sorted. What’s your name?”

“He’s Sam. I’m Dean.” Dean stood and pulled his damp jacket off. “Let me help?”

“What am I? Old? I can handle two boys on my own. Now sit back down and warm up before you freeze up.” Sylvie planted her fists on her hips and stared at him until Dean dropped back into the chair with a lop-sided grin.

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean chuckled as she left the room.

“What just happened?” Sam asked with a small laugh and leaned back into the comfortable cushions. He tugged the afghan off the back of the couch and pulled it over his chest, uncomfortable being shirtless around the woman.

“Dude, I don’t know.” Dean shook his head and then frowned as Sam’s head dropped back on a soft groan. “Hey.” Dean was up and at his side. “You alright?” He leaned over and carefully peeled back the edge of the bandage on the front of Sam’s shoulder.

“Yeah…just tired.” Sam flinched as the tape pulled the wounds.

“Damn,” Dean groaned. The marks looked painful as hell, and two stitches in the meat of his shoulder had been popped, probably when demon nurse had dug in her fingers. “Gotta fix this.”

“Awesome,” Sam rolled his eyes, making Dean smirk.

“I’m gonna run out to the car.” Dean fixed Sam with a look and waited.

Sam rolled his eyes again and shifted slightly so he could pull the gun from his back with his left hand and slid it under the couch cushion beside him. “Yes, mom. I’ll be fine for two minutes with the harmless old lady.”

“Who says I’m harmless?” Sylvie asked with a laugh as she came back in with a tray. She hooked a stool with her foot and dragged it over beside Dean, then set the tray down. “I figure you’ll be needing this.” She pulled the towel off the tray revealing two cups of coffee and a suture kit. “Or do you need me to fix those two stitches?”

“Huh?” Dean looked up at her in surprise.

Sylvie chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Son, I’ve been around a long time. I reckon I can re-sew a couple stitches as well as you can.” She enjoyed the looks on both their faces as she sat on the edge of the couch at Sam’s hip and picked up his much larger hand in her own. Something about the two of them had shouted at her the moment she’d seen them, bedraggled and near falling down and so suspicious of even little old her. They needed caring for, and that was something she could do. “You can have your coffee after and I’ve got pot pies in the oven.”

Dean shook his head, grinned and nodded. “Sylvie, you’re alright.”

Sam tried to rescue his hand but she held on tight and he huffed out a breath. “Thank you, Sylvie.”

“You just give me a squeeze if you need to while your brother’s fixing your shoulder.” Sylvie let out a hearty, beautiful laugh when both men startled. “Oh please, you don’t have to be my age to see it and hear it. Of course your brothers.” She looked between them and smirked at Dean. “You’re obviously the older.”

“Lemme guess, you can sense how irritating Sammy here is?” Dean asked with a laugh.

Sam snorted softly and rolled his head to look at Dean. “Dude, it’s the wrinkles around your eyes.”

“I don’t have wrinkles, you little…” Dean didn’t finish it, with a quick look at Sylvie as she laughed again but swatted the side of Sam’s head instead. “Shut up or I’ll stitch your elbow to your nose.”

Sylvie smiled and watched as Dean set to work on his brother’s shoulder. She kept her hold of Sam’s hand, returning every squeeze when he flinched as Dean worked. He had his eyes shut tight and her heart melted a little when Dean finished, set his hand on the side of his brother’s head and Sam turned into it for comfort. She thought it had to have been a very long time since these boys had anyone but each other.

“He’s mostly out now. You can let go,” Dean told her softly. He stood and stretched then grabbed a cup of coffee and settled in the chair beside the couch. Dean studied her for a moment. “How come you let us in? I mean, it’s the middle of the night. We’re a mess. We could be axe murderers or something.”

Sylvie chuckled and pulled her hand free of Sam’s with a last pat. She took the other cup of coffee and shrugged. “When you get to be my age, you don’t worry so much about things anymore. Besides, one look at you boys is enough to know you’re not evil.” She smirked at his snort. “Do you need to call anyone? Your mother maybe?” She was prying, she knew, but couldn’t help herself.

Dean’s face fell into a frown and he looked over at his brother. “Our mom’s gone…long time now.”

Sylvie nodded, seeing that he wasn’t going to say more. “I’m sorry, honey.” She stood and patted his knee. “You get comfie. I’ll go check on those pot pies.” She bustled off into the kitchen and gave the boys some time to themselves. She cleaned the coffee pot, checked her pies and took them out to cool, did a few dishes and then stuck her head into the living room. Sam was still out and Dean had fallen asleep sitting up with his coffee mug perched precariously on his knee. She smirked and stole silently into the room and rescued the cup from his fingers. Poor boy was just as exhausted as his brother. She took another quilt from the back of the couch and gently folded it over Dean with a warm smile before taking herself off to bed. The pot pies would keep.

Dean woke confused, unsure where he was and why he was so warm. He blinked his eyes open and then relaxed, remembering Sylvie and her happy mothering. He looked down and smiled at the quilt spread carefully over him and then scowled at himself for not being alert enough to wake when she’d been that close. He glanced over at the couch and his scowl turned to a worried frown as Sam shifted and moaned.

“Crap.” Dean untangled himself from the quilt and went to sit beside his brother as he began to thrash while tears escaped his closed eyes. “Sammy.” Dean took his good shoulder and gave him a shake. “Wake up, kiddo.”

“Jess.” Sam mumbled in his sleep and Dean’s heart broke a little, as it always did.

“Come on, Sam. Wake up now.” Dean ran a hand over his brow, relieved at least to not feel a fever burning there. Sam lurched up suddenly, shouting Jess’ name as his eyes flew wide. “Whoa!” Dean caught his arms and held him steady while Sam heaved for air.

Sam gasped as the dream came back to him and he took hold of the front of his brother’s shirt reflexively. He knew he was still crying and couldn’t seem to stop it. His shoulder screamed pain at him from being moved and he gave in. Sam let his head fall forward onto Dean’s shoulder and he let the tears fall. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Easy, Sammy. It’s ok,” Dean soothed and, in spite of his aversion to chick flick moments, gave his brother what he needed. Dean wrapped his arms around him, careful of his wounded shoulder and held on, letting him cry. “I know, buddy.”

“She’s gone,” Sam whispered, heartbroken.

“I know.” Dean repeated. He wished for the millionth time that he could go back and change what had happened. “I’m sorry.” He looked up and saw Sylvie in the doorway, wide-eyed. Dean gave her a minute shake of his head, knowing Sam would be even more mortified to be caught like this by a stranger. She nodded to him and stepped back.

Sylvie crept back down the hall to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee with shaking hands. She clasped one fist over her chest and wiped a stray tear from her eye. How could anyone see such heartbreak and such affection and not be touched? She had an overwhelming urge to go back in there and hug them both to her but knew it wouldn’t be welcome. Instead, she worked at making the coffee that would no doubt be needed soon. It was close to dawn.

Dean felt when Sam slipped back into sleep, becoming heavy against him and his head rolling into the crook of Dean’s shoulder with a little sniff. He smiled sadly with the memory of many times little Sammy had done much the same after nightmares. Dean gently eased him back to the couch and pulled the quilt back up to his chin. He waited a moment to be sure Sam was out again and then stood. He went out and followed the hall into the kitchen and sure enough, found Sylvie puttering about.

“Hey. Sorry we woke you,” Dean said quietly. He smiled when he saw her over-bright eyes.

Sylvie waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry about. I don’t mind. I…” She trailed off and poured a cup of coffee to give herself a moment while Dean looked on. She took it over to him and held it out. “He’s lost someone recently.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Sylvie put a hand on his elbow to offer him comfort. “If there’s anything I can do for you boys, you just ask.”

“You’ve done plenty already.” Dean went and sat at the little kitchen table. “We just need some gas for the car to get back to town now.”

“Oh that’s no problem at all. I have an old pickup out back. Never use the thing, but my grandson keeps it gassed up. You can siphon off whatever you need.” Sylvie smiled and went to the fridge. “You’re not going anywhere however until you’ve eaten something.” She took out one of the pot pies and quickly popped it into the oven to warm. “Trust me. Best in the county.”

Dean grinned. “I do love pie.”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

In Boone, in the hospital, a blind woman sat up in her bed and growled angrily. In her mind, she saw through the eyes of her creature, the thing she had trapped with magic and blood. Normally watching the land pass by below through its eyes was enough to calm her and placate her rage. The children she had promised the beast had slipped through its grasp, saved by two Hunters; two brothers. As the creature screamed its own hurt out into the night, she threw her head back and let out her own shout.

“Damn you Dean Winchester!”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_To Be Continued...  
_


	5. Chapter 5

_In Boone, in the hospital, a blind woman sat up in her bed and growled angrily. In her mind, she saw through the eyes of her creature, the thing she had trapped with magic and blood. Normally watching the land pass by below through its eyes was enough to calm her and placate her rage. The children she had promised the beast had slipped through its grasp, saved by two Hunters; two brothers. As the creature screamed its own hurt out into the night, she threw her head back and let out her own shout._

_"Damn you Dean Winchester!"_

**_CHAPTER 5_ **

Sam looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and groaned; He looked like crap. His hair stuck out in all directions, blood and mud streaked his chest and the claw marks on his shoulder were an angry red. Getting his shirt off had taken more energy than he liked but pride had made him refuse Dean’s snarky offer to get it off for him. He smirked. Dean was enjoying his condition far more than he was.

“Jerk,” Sam muttered and leaned down to turn on the sink. He wanted a shower but wasn’t sure he was up to standing that long. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, under his hair and flinched as his hand brushed something on the back of his neck that stung suddenly. “What the hell?” It felt like a ball stuck to his skin and as he felt around it, he felt legs wiggle against his skin. “Oh crap, come ON!” His raised voice brought Dean back to the door.

“Sammy?”

Sam pulled the door open, his skin crawling and tugged Dean in by his arm then turned around. “What the hell is on my neck? What is that?”

“Take it easy, ya big baby,” Dean chuckled and pushed Sam’s hand off his neck so he could see. He pulled the mop of dark hair up out of the way and cringed. “Yeesh. Dude, you’ve got a hitchhiker. And what the hell are all these bites from?”

“Centipedes. Tell me that’s not another one.” Sam dropped his head so Dean could get to it better.

“Uh…not a centipede.” Dean shook his head and got his nails under the black bug. “It’s a…well it’s a tick. Stand still already,” he admonished as Sam twitched irritably. “Lemme just…come here you little bastard.” He got his finger under the bloated insect and popped it off his brother’s neck, then tossed it into the toilet with a little splash.

“I officially hate bugs.” Sam took the ball of toilet paper Dean handed him and slapped it over the bleeding spot on his neck.

“Sure seem to like you,” Dean said and snorted at Sam’s look of disgust. “Clean up, and uh…you should check for more ticks.” He waved in the general vicinity of Sam’s groin and left the bathroom with a laugh.

“Oh, this sucks.” Sam groaned again and turned the shower on.

Dean chuckled all the way downstairs and into the kitchen where Sylvie was brewing more coffee. He blinked at the morning sunlight streaming in the window. “He’ll be down eventually, soon as he’s sure he’s not carrying around anymore ticks.”

“Oh, stop laughing.” Sylvie rolled her eyes and swatted him with a dish towel. “I’d like to see your face if you found one of those little buggers in your joy department.”

“Sylvie!” Dean exclaimed in surprise, eyes wide. “You are a dirty old bird.”

She laughed and waved the coffee scoop. “I shall deny everything. Now go take your brother a cup of coffee while I go out back and pick some fresh tomatoes.”

Dean groaned and poured a cup. “What am I, friggin’ room service?” He loaded creamer and sugar into it until the coffee was a distant memory and headed back out while Sylvie chuckled. Dean climbed the stairs again and heard the shower turn off. He pounded on the door a couple times and grinned as Sam’s wet, shaggy head appeared through the open door.

“What?” Sam looked in surprise as Dean held out a cup of coffee.

“Sylvie’s orders or, trust me, I so would not be delivering door to door for you, princess.” Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam chuckled and took the cup. “I like her.”

Dean stayed outside the door as Sam shut it and waited until he reappeared, clothed except for his shirt which hung off one arm. “Need a hand?” He didn’t wait but took the shirt and man-handled it up over his brother’s head and got his arm through the other sleeve. As he did so, he frowned. “You’re hot.”

“I know I’m the good-looking brother, but you didn’t have to say,” Sam teased and sighed when Dean slapped a hand out to his neck. “It’s nothing.” He knew he was running a fever already and knew it wasn’t that bad either.

“Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that,” Dean grumbled and gave him a push toward the stairs. “Don’t even wanna know what kind of crap Birdzilla has in its claws, dude.”

Sam endured the thermometer in his mouth, the medicine Dean shoved at him, and looked out the kitchen window to the expansive back lawn as he swallowed them. “Holy shit. Dean!” Sam dropped the glass in the sink and spun to find the back door.

Dean leaned over to look out the window and then was right on his brother’s heels. Coming in high above Sylvie with the sun at its back, Birdzilla was homing in on her. “No way.” He sprinted out the back door with Sam and quickly overtook him. “Sylvie!” Dean shouted.

“Get down!” Sam ran as fast as he could with exhaustion still pulling at him. He could just barely make out the dark blur against the sun that was the creature. He watched Dean pass him and leap, tackling the old woman to the ground. Sam dropped and covered his head with the wind of the beast’s passing.

Dean rolled off of her and turned to watch the creature climb back into the blue sky and wheel away with a screech. “Son of a bitch!” He looked down in alarm. “Sylvie? Are you ok?”

“Oh, I think my pride will survive.” Sylvie’s eyes were on Birdzilla as it dwindled to a spot and vanished. “That did…just happen. Yes?”

“Uh…yeah. Here.” Dean got up and took her hands, helped her gentlyto her feet.

“Is she alright?” Sam called and got shakily to his own feet. His drop to the ground had jarred his shoulder and blacked his vision out for a moment.

“I’m fine, dear, but you don’t look so well.” Sylvie went quickly to Sam with one eye on the sky and Dean at her side. They each took one of his arms, and she frowned at his pale, sweat-streaked face. “Fever?”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “Back inside, Sasquatch.”

“Why’d it come after Sylvie?” Sam asked as he was turned and marched back into the house.

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean assured him and gave him a nudge not to discuss hunting the monster bird in front of her. 

“I need to go to the library,” Sam pulled free of their hands and went to his bag in the living room to find a flannel.

“You need to lie down, Sam,” Sylvie put her hands on her hips and watched as he pulled the shirt on and grimaced at his shoulder. “You have a fever.”

“I’ll be fine, Sylvie.” Sam smiled down at her reassuringly and pointedly didn’t look at his brother’s face. “Dean will see to that.”

“Oh, that’s just low, dude.” Dean groaned and tugged his jacket off the back of the chair. “Fine, come on then.”

“You boys come back.” Sylvie made her decision quickly and made sure they were paying attention. “I don’t think you staying in town is safe anymore, do you?”

“Huh?” Dean watched a smile spread across her face.

“Demons in town and a man-eating creature outside of it, you’ll be safer here.” Sylvie chuckled. “So will I, I’m sure.”

Both boys stared at her, matching expressions of shocked surprise on their faces. “Wait, wait.” Sam found his voice first and raised a hand, still staring at her. “You know about demons?”

Sylvie shrugged and dropped to sit on the arm of the chair. “Time to come clean. Boys, I was hunting when the two of you weren’t even a glimmer in your Daddy’s eye.” She brushed an imaginary speck of lint from her shoulder and raised her chin. “I was damn good at it, I’ll have you know, but…I’ve been out of the game for a while now, a good long while.”

Sam stared at her with newfound respect and, even more, a small ember of hope that not every Hunter ended up dying young and bloody. She was proof it was possible to survive and even leave the life. “You were a Hunter.”

“I was.” Sylvie chuckled at the looks on their faces. “I left it all behind after my husband died. And before you ask…natural causes.” She shook her head. “Damn fool went and had a heart attack, of all things.”

“Wow.” Dean smiled and it turned to a grin. “You are six kinds of awesome, Sylvie, you know that?”

“Only six?” Sylvie patted his arm with a laugh.

Sam suddenly looked at her quizzically. “Sylvie, how did you figure out that WE are Hunters?”

  
She looked at him, amused. “Oh, sweetie, I had you two made the minute you stumbled through my door looking like you’d gone ten rounds with a grizzly bear.” She chuckled again and then her voice turned serious. “Now, you boys make sure you come back here tonight with your things. You don’t want to be in town. It’s not safe for you, for Hunters.” She pulled a long, knitted scarf up from the chair and reached up on her tip-toes to wind the green and yellow thing around Sam’s neck while he blushed. “Stay warm, you don’t need a cold on top of that fever.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean gave Sam a shove toward the door. “We’ll be back for dinner.” He stepped out on the porch, closed the door and laughed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Cannot believe I just said that.”

Sam chuckled and then looked in surprise at their car. “I thought we left her on the side of the road?”

Dean snorted and went to the Impala, pulling open the driver’s door. “Siphoned gas out of Sylvie’s truck while you were comatose.” He looked over at his brother and smirked. “That’s a good look for you.” He nodded to the fluffy, green and yellow scarf.

“Shut up.” Sam got in the car, reached up to pull the scarf off and then stopped as he saw Sylvie’s head look out a window and wave to them as Dean backed away. “I have to wear this now, don’t I?”

Dean laughed and nodded. “Yep. Don’t mess with grandmothers, dude. Especially grandmothers who used to be hunters. I think she’s adopted us.”

Sam gave up and laughed with a shake of his head. “At least we’ll be eating well the rest of the time we’re here.” He dropped his head back to the seat and closed his eyes, willing himself to not feel so crappy.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean sat beside Sam in the library trying very hard not to feel as bored as he actually was. Sam had shoved him away from the keyboard after a few minutes and taken over the research on their creature. Dean smirked and wondered if Sam knew he pretended to hunt and peck on the keyboard just to irritate him and get out of research.

“Any luck?” Dean asked and pulled a pile of scratch of lottery tickets from his pocket.

Sam shrugged absently. “I’m narrowing it down. Got a good look at yesterday and today, so…I just have to find it.”

“I’m gonna go…do something.” Dean rose and paced off into the library. There weren’t many people there that early in the day. He leaned against a shelf where he could see his brother and started scratching tickets.

“Dean!”

Dean looked around in surprise at his name and saw the older of the two boys they had saved in the woods grinning up at him. “Where’s your brother?”

“Over there.” Jake waved a hand to another section of the library and rolled his eyes. “Found a Harry Potter book or something. He’s such a geek.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, mine too.” He pointed to Sam and Jake grinned again.

“Our foster parents always bring Joey here after chemo. Makes him feel better.” Jake shrugged. “I think it’s boring, but he likes it.”

“Chemo? Your little brother’s sick?” Dean knelt to be on eye level with him as the boy nodded.

“Leukemia.” Jake sighed. “They say he’s getting better, though,” he added, his voice hopeful.

Dean nodded and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder in support, then looked over at Sam’s back, and a shudder passed through him. He couldn’t begin to imagine the horror of living with an illness like that. As messed up as their lives had been, at least he’d never had to watch Sam waste away from some illness he couldn’t fight. He saw Sam rub at his shoulder and thought how much more hellish it would have been if Dad had dragged them around the country hunting while trying to manage something like cancer too. He shook himself and smiled at Jake.

“You’ll take care of him,” Dean said surely and saw himself in the kid; the same dedication to his little brother’s safety and just general well-being. “Just don’t forget to give him crap. They need that so they don’t get uppity.”

Jake laughed and nodded. “Yeah, speaking of…probably oughta go irritate him some more.”

Dean chuckled as Jake ran off and stood again, going back to drop into the chair beside Sam. He finished scratching the ticket, a loser, and then blew the little shavings onto the side of Sam’s neck.

“Dude!” Sam hissed and glared over at his grinning big brother. “You are such a pain in the ass when you’re bored.”

Dean snorted, nodding to himself and went on to scratch the next ticket with a satisfied smirk. “You should probably find something soon, then. I’m hungry.”

Sam rolled his eyes and went back to scrolling through the old newspaper entries he’d found. “Great. Can’t you go pester a librarian or something?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Dean brought the ticket up to look at it, then looked at it again as his eyes widened. “Dude.” He shoved the lottery ticket into Sam’s face. “Tell me I’m not seeing things.”

“Yes, Dean. It’s a lottery ticket,” Sam said in a bored voice and groaned as Dean pushed it into his nose. “Alright. Alright!” He took it and looked at the numbers and his jaw opened. “Holy crap, I think you won.”

“Yes!” Dean punched the air and took it back. “We’re goin’ shopping, Sammy.”

Sam laughed softly and went back to his research. “Buying anything useful or just hitting up the local bar?”

“Shut up.” Dean tucked the ticket safely away in his pocket and bent to scratch the others. He was just crumpling the last ticket, all losers, when Sam leaned back and punched his arm. “What?”

“Found the bastard,” Sam said and smiled grimly. “Things just got more complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Dean turned around and leaned in to read over his shoulder.

“It’s called an Adar Llwch Gwin,” Sam told him.

“Ok, we’re sticking with Birdzilla,” Dean pronounced after hearing the creature’s name.

Sam chuckled and nodded. “Agreed. Anyway, it’s Welsh. They’re known for being ferocious, have a taste for human flesh, obviously, can work with other spirits, they understand human speech, and -- this is my favorite part -- obey any commands given to them by their master.”

“Master?” Dean leaned back in his chair with a thump. “Son of a bitch. Someone’s giving this thing orders?”

Sam nodded. “According to this, until someone takes control of them, they just live quietly in the wilderness eating wild game and the occasional tourist.”

“Let me guess,” Dean sighed. “We have to kill the master before we can kill it.”

“Actually, I don’t think it matters.” Sam was reading further down the entry and nodded again. “I think we can just gank the thing. I mean, if we can get close enough to it.” He rubbed his shoulder. “That’s a problem.”

“Ok. We’re gonna break out the rifles then.” Dean smiled and clapped his hands together. “Take Birdzilla out while he’s still in the air. Come on. I need food.”

Sam closed down the pages and stood, holding a hand over his left shoulder and rolled his eyes when Dean stared at him. “It’s fine. It hurts, duh. Leave it.”

Dean scowled but said nothing and kept an eye on his pale face as they left the library. “Dude, we should get something for Sylvie. You know, like ‘thanks’ or something.”

Sam chuckled and looked sideways at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were soft on her.”

Dean elbowed his brother’s side. “She’s awesome and you know it. What do you think? What the hell do you get for a girl anyway?”

“Dude.” Sam burst out laughing. “Woman, not girl. She used to be a Hunter. I don’t know. Bottle of Hunter’s helper?”

Dean chuckled. “That’s not a bad idea. Good bottle of whiskey’s never a bad idea.”

Sam wrapped the scarf she’d given him around his neck again as he shivered in the cold air and nudged Dean toward a little strip mall of stores ahead that included a liquor store. “Over there.”

A half an hour later, they returned to the Impala and put several bags in the trunk including a bottle of Red Label whiskey for Sylvie, another for the first aid kit, so Dean said, a new emergency blanket for the car that Sam had found; it was fluffy and warm as opposed to the old army issue, threadbare green one that had been in there since Sam was a kid. Dean took the two cassette tapes he’d found of classic metal and got in the front seat while Sam closed the trunk.

Sam tolerated the blasting bass beat as they drove to a nearby diner and gratefully got out as soon as the car stopped. He wanted a bowl of soup to settle his stomach and then maybe twelve hours unconscious, but that wasn’t going to happen. “You coming? Or you wanna sit out here and skip food for music?”

Dean flipped him off as he got out. “Oh, I’m eating. There’s a big greasy burger in there with my name on it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and followed him inside. A waitress waved them toward the booths and they seated themselves. He grabbed the menu off the table as Dean did and looked it over. To his surprise, as he read through it he found himself no longer wanting soup. What he wanted was the biggest, greasiest burger he could find and when the waitress came over, Sam eagerly ordered it as his mouth practically watered.

Dean listened to Sam order in something close to shock, and then, without even realizing he’d done it, he ordered soup and a salad and scowled when he found his brother staring at him. “What?”

“Dude, soup and a salad? You? Really?” Sam laughed at him. “Wow.”

“What? A guy can’t eat healthy once in a while?” Dean was at a loss for why he even wanted the sort of thing Sam usually ate, but as he’d looked at the menu, the thought of all that grease had literally turned his stomach.

“A guy, sure…not you, though.” Sam snorted, amused, and then closed his mouth so he wouldn’t drool when the waitress returned with his burger. “Oh, baby.”

Dean watched her set the greasy burger in front of his brother and swallowed hard against nausea. She set a plate of salad and a bowl of soup in front of him and Dean smiled in relief. “Oh yeah.” He wondered briefly about the oddity of them seeming to trade cravings and then shrugged and dug in to his meal with gusto.

A while later, Sam mopped the grease off the bottom of his plate with the last bite of his burger and leaned back with a happy groan. “Holy crap, that was good.”

“That was disgusting. THIS was good.” Dean pushed his empty salad plate next to his empty bowl and grinned. “Don’t know how you choked that mess down.”

“Whatever,” Sam smiled, too sated to care.

“Ok, come on. We got crap to do.” Dean pushed up from the table and tossed a twenty down from his lottery winnings.

Sam eased out of his seat and followed him to the door. They stepped outside and headed for the car but twenty feet from the diner, Sam stopped as his stomach suddenly gurgled. “Ungh.”

“Oh, man.” Dean bent over with a hand over his mouth and groaned, suddenly seeing himself eating all that salad and the soup that, really, now he thought about it, had tasted like crap.

“Dude…” Sam felt himself turning green with the knowledge that he’d actually devoured that disgusting, greasy burger. “Oh, my God…what the hell just happened?”

“I don’t…” Dean paused and swallowed hard as his stomach started to crawl up his throat. “I don’t kn…uh oh.” He bolted around the side of the building and distantly heard his brother throw up a moment before he couldn’t hold his own back. Dean slapped a hand out to the cold, brick wall and tried not to look as his lunch reappeared in front of his feet.

The heaving finally stopped and Sam found himself leaning on the back of the Impala with the still nauseating remains of his burger on the ground beside him. “Oh, man, yech!” He straightened carefully and eased around the passenger side of the car as Dean appeared from the alley. “Dude, you alright?”

Dean nodded slowly and came back to the car, pasty-faced and pissed. He opened the door and then looked up at the sky. “What the hell IS it with this screwy town?” He shouted.

“I think the diner must be spelled to, like…swap appetites…or something.” Sam shook his head, looking at the building and got in the car. “Don’t really care at the moment.”

“I say we come back tonight.” Dean slid behind the wheel and glared death at the diner. “Burn that unholy place to the damn ground. Salad, Sam. I ate your damn salad…and soup!”

Sam couldn’t help it, he laughed even as his stomach still turned sourly. “Can we go find the Adar Ll…Adar el...Birdzilla and kill it now, please?”

“Hell yes. I want out of this freaky town.” Dean revved the engine and flew down the road toward the last area of forest where they’d encountered the creature.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean looked over his shoulder as they walked through the forest for the tenth time and growled. “You know we’re being followed, right?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, since shortly after we parked.” He rolled his eyes. “The guy’s not even trying that hard.”

“I think he is and he just sucks.” Dean chuckled. Someone had been following them since they’d started into the forest, and he’d been listening to the little cracks of twigs and the occasional muttered curse when whoever the guy was tripped over something and then hushed himself.

Sam looked over at Dean and raised a brow, grinning. “You wanna snap a circle on him and scare the shit out of him?”

Dean nodded with a grim smile. “Oh, yeah. I got right,” he said and melted into the trees as Sam vanished across the way from him. ‘Snapping a circle’ was an old hunter’s trick their ‘uncle’ Bobby had taught them as kids. It meant knowing you were being followed and silently turning back on the follower, coming up from behind without them knowing. It took patience and practice, and by the time Sam had been thirteen, they’d become adept enough to take their own father by surprise once. Dean grinned now as he moved. He couldn’t hear or see his brother, but he knew he was out there mirroring him. Dean ducked as he caught a glimpse of a brown shirt through a bush.

Sam eased between the trees, staying low and stepping wisely over anything that could give him away. He knew the general position of the person following them and could see where Dean was in his head, knowing him that well, and he smirked. Sam shifted closer to their quarry, raised his rifle from his shoulder, and only then saw Dean come out from behind a tree, grin firmly in place. They both turned and saw the brown-shirted back of their follower not ten feet ahead. He was crouched down behind a stump and completely unaware as the brothers stole up behind him.

Dean cleared his throat and snorted happily as the man jumped, fell over and then scrambled back to the trunk on his ass to find two rifles being pointed at him. “Officer Gary, fancy meeting you here.” Dean recognized him as the officer from the crime scene, the man whose sister so closely resembled Jessica.

“Holy shit!” Gary stared up, wide-eyed and in shock. “How the hell’d you do that? That’s…no way, man! You were just there!” He pointed back where the brothers had been.

Sam shook his head and looked over at his brother. “You’re right. He just sucks that much.”

“There a reason you decided to follow us in here?” Dean lowered his rifle slightly so it wasn’t pointing at the man’s head. After all, they had been relatively friendly the last time Dean had seen him. “Not the smartest move in the world, trailing two feds into the forest.”

“Feds, my ass.” Gary scowled and pushed to his feet. His hand inched toward his sidearm, but one sharp look from Sam stopped him. “Funny thing about that. See, I took a really weird statement from a couple kids last night who said two brothers saved them in the forest here…sure sounded a lot like you from the description. Even used the same names.” He sniffed and crossed his arms. “Just how stupid do you think I am?”

“Wait. Is this a multiple choice question?” Dean asked sarcastically and wasn’t amused to know their cover had been damaged.

“Look, the only reason I haven’t busted you two yet is I kinda like you.” Gary looked at Dean with an almost apologetic expression. “But I need to know who you really are and what you’re doing here.”

“We’re trying to save your asses from the man-eating bird…thing in these woods,” Dean said and rolled his eyes. “Which, by the way, this is not the safest place for you to be.”

“Bird thing? Seriously?” Gary looked between them and started laughing. “You need a better story. My kid could come up with a better story than that. Geez, Dean.”

“No, really.” Sam looked at him earnestly. “There’s a creature up here eating people, and it’s not a bear. You have to know that by now.”

Gary raised a brow and looked at him pityingly. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” He walked between them and started back the way he’d come. “You two’ve got til I get back to town to come up with a reason good enough for me not to turn you in.”

“Dammit,” Dean growled and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He looked up as if seeking inspiration from the clouds and startled. “Shit! Sam!” He grabbed his brother’s arm and pointed up to where the creature was arrowing in above the tree tops. It wasn’t looking at them. It was looking at the retreating form of Gary.

“Officer!” Sam shouted and broke into a run after him. “Gary! Get down!”

Gary turned to look back at them with an amused laugh. He frowned, seeing both men looking up over their shoulders and followed their line of sight. “Oh…my God. What the hell IS that?” A giant bird of some sort with far too many rows of teeth was swooping down through the tree tops and he was frozen in surprise. He could only wait for the thing to crash into him and then grunted in surprise as Sam reached him first and they both went down hard as the bird thing whooshed past in a rush of air and claws.

Sam shouted in pain as they fell. He tried to break his fall with his left arm but his shoulder was still too weak. His arm hit the ground at an unnatural angle and he heard and felt something crack as he lost consciousness from the pain.

“Sammy!” Dean ran to them, watching as Birdzilla swooped back up into the early afternoon sky and slid to a stop on his knees beside Sam and Gary.

“What just happened?” Gary shoved at Sam’s weight on top of him and heaved a relieved breath when Dean rolled him off.

“Exactly what we told you would happen,” Dean snapped. “Sam?” Dean pulled Sam up into his arms and steadied his lolling head. “Sammy?”

“I think he hurt something.” Gary went from stunned victim to police officer with the sound of fear in Dean’s voice and bent to Sam, feeling along his legs and then his arms. He groaned when he got to his left arm. “Shit. Dean, this is broken or at least fractured.” He pushed the sleeve of Sam’s jacket up as gently as he could and nodded, seeing the discolored and quickly bruising skin. “Looks like he landed badly.”

“Saving your ass,” Dean said angrily and then took a breath to calm himself. “You need to get out of here now. For whatever reason, that thing’s after you right now.”

“Me?” Gary looked up in surprise. “What the hell’d I do to get special treatment?”

“Don’t know.” Dean shook his head and put his fist against Sam’s chest, rubbing his knuckles roughly into his sternum. “But you need to get lost quick. I’ll take care of my brother.”

“So he really is your brother?” Gary nodded. “Alright. Look…I’m not gonna turn you in. I uh…Thanks. Tell him I said thank you when he wakes up.”

“Yeah, I will. Go.” Dean watched the officer rise and jog off into the trees and turned his attention back to his brother. “Sammy?” He rubbed harder and was rewarded with a moan as Sam’s eyes fluttered open. “Just had to go and break a bone in friggin’ demon-central, didn’t you?”

“Dean?” Sam asked and then sucked in a breath as he moved his left arm and pain shot into his head. “Crap,” He gasped.

“Yeah, Officer Gary there thinks maybe you broke it.” Dean pulled him up so he was sitting against his knee. “We gotta move.”

“Ok. I’m ok. I can do it,” Sam reassured him and let Dean pull him around and then up to his feet with him where he swayed as pain flowed through him from his arm.

“Easy, tiger.” Dean steadied him and slid an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Can you carry your rifle?”

“Uh…yeah.” Sam looked around absently and took it when Dean slid it into his right hand.

“Ok, here we go.” Dean got him walking back toward the car and silently swore that the next time they came out after Birdzilla it was going to die, and slowly if he had anything to say about it.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean pulled into the Boone Hospital parking lot against his better judgment, but Sam had a broken arm and that was something that required medical attention. He had a loose sort of plan that he was sure Sam would argue him out of if he were in any condition to. Sam was curled against the passenger door with his head resting against the window and near unconscious again. Dean parked near a side entrance partially hidden by several dumpsters and sighed, looking up at the building.

“This will work,” Dean said softly and looked over at his brother. It was over four hours to the next nearest hospital and he didn’t want Sam in that much pain for that long. His decision made, he climbed out and went to the trunk. He rifled through quickly for what he’d need, stuffing various things into his jacket and then went to the passenger door. He eased it open and caught Sam as he tried to topple out. “Hey. Sam.”

Sam blinked his eyes open blearily and looked up to find himself supported against Dean’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“You gotta walk for me for just a minute, alright?” Dean didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled Sam out of the car and held him up as his legs wobbled, kicked the door shut and went to the door. He propped Sam against his side and got it open. “Just be quiet for a bit, dude.” Sam nodded and Dean eased them both inside and down a long hall. He found a door marked ‘Maintenance’ and figured that was the best place. He opened it, reaching in to pull the cord dangling from the light on the ceiling and got Sam inside. Dean eased him down to sit on the floor in the back behind a shelf and cupped a hand at the side of his pale, sweat-soaked face.

“Sammy? I’m gonna be right back.” Dean waited for another nod and smiled. “You’re gonna stay right here no matter what you hear, you got me?”

Sam scowled and made himself pay more attention. “What…what are you gonna do?”

“Go ask nicely for a demon-free doctor.” Dean smirked and patted his good shoulder. “Don’t move. I mean it. I can’t do this if I’m worrying about you.” It was low, he knew, but it had the desired effect as Sam nodded miserably and settled back.

“Alright.” Sam closed his eyes, resigned to not screwing up whatever crazy plan Dean had in place. “You’re not back soon though…”

“Right. You’ll hobble out there to find me.” Dean chuckled and slapped Sam’s knee before he stood. He checked from the door, pleased that he couldn’t see Sam from there and shut it. “Time to cause a little chaos.”

Dean ended up on the third floor before he found what he wanted. He’d come up through the fire stairs and spent ten minutes in a closet when the smell of sulfur came to his nose. He waited for it to pass and eased back out. Across from him was an empty nurse’s station and he grinned. Dean dashed to the curved desk and dropped down behind with a glance around the floor. It was fairly empty which boded well for him not being interrupted. He pulled out two flasks of holy water and set them beside him and then grabbed the microphone from above his head and brought that down as well.

“Ok, you demon bastards.” Dean took a piece of paper from his other pocket and unfolded it. “Let’s see how you like this announcement.” He held the paper up where he could see it and clicked on the mic, tapping into the hospital’s public address system. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursi…” The Latin of the exorcism didn’t roll off his tongue quite so easily as it did Sam’s, but he managed through years of practice with their father and smiled as he heard his own voice echoing through the hospital’s halls. There were voices raised in confusion and anger and then shouting. Shortly, there was screaming and a peculiar sort of thunder that had to be the demons being exorcised. People ran and screamed and chaos reigned for several minutes. When he was finished, he crawled out from under the desk and looked up.

Two people in nurse’s scrubs lay on the floor down the hall from him. One gasped as if catching her breath, while the man beside her lay disturbingly still and Dean knew the demon inhabiting him had killed him. He sighed, grabbed up his flasks of holy water and ran to the fire stairs again, not bothering to hide himself now the hospital was, at least for the moment, demon free. He reached the first floor and the hall where he’d left Sam and slid to a stop. A doctor sat on the floor with his back against the wall and a face in shock with his eyes open too wide.

“Hey.” Dean knelt by him and nudged his shoulder, waiting for the man’s eyes to find him. He smiled when they did. “You’re a doctor, right? Dude? Doctor?.” He got a nod and smiled more widely. “Good. I need you to pull it together for a minute. My brother needs help and you’re it.”

“Help?” The man said and blinked owlishly. He shook himself and pushed up the wall, nodding in gratitude as Dean took his arm and helped. “Uh, I’m Dr. Flaxton. I don’t…” His mind was a jumble of confused images and memories that didn’t seem to be his, and, the more he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure what day it was. He did have a vivid memory of black smoke pouring out of his mouth and vanishing through the floor, but that made no sense.

“Hey, you with me?” Dean gave his arm a shake.

“Yes. Yes. Your brother you say?” The doctor asked and got a nod.

“This way. Got himself a broken arm, I think.” Dean led him down the hall to the maintenance closet and pulled the door open. “Dammit, Sammy. I told you to stay down.” Sam was standing and had obviously been about to pull the door open. He was still pale with two spots of color riding high on his cheeks from the fever.

“I was.” Sam took a breath now his brother was standing in front of him unharmed. He’d heard the exorcism and actually grinned at the ingenuity of it. “I take it it worked?”

“Like a charm,” Dean said facetiously. “Come on.” He took his good arm and pulled him out into the hall. “This is Dr…what was it?”

“Flaxton.” The doctor took one look at Sam and his instincts kicked in. “Which arm?” He took the one Sam held up gingerly, pushing the sleeve back. The first thing he noticed was the unnatural heat in his skin that told him the young man was feverish and he frowned. “How long has his temperature been up? This way. There’s an exam room down here.”

“I don’t know. A day maybe?” Dean helped steer his brother down the hall with the doctor’s help.

“Right here, you know,” Sam rolled his eyes. “I can answer for myself.”

“Yeah; but you lie, and this poor sucker doesn’t know that.” Dean grinned at Sam’s glare and the doctor’s laugh.

“Here. In here.” Dr. Flaxton turned them into a doorway and into an exam room. “What…can you tell me what happened here?” he asked as Sam climbed up to sit on the bed.

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and exchanged a look with his brother. “Well, what do you remember?”

“I…hang on.” Flaxton went to the wall and picked up the phone, giving a quick order for a portable x-ray to be brought down and turned back to them as he hung it up. “I would swear there was…someone else…inside my head, but that’s impossible of course.”

“Of course.” Sam nodded and exchanged a sad look with his brother.

Dr. Flaxton shook himself and focused on his patient instead. “Let’s get your shirt off…”

“Sam,” Dean informed him.

“I can talk, for cryin’ out…” Sam broke off on a groan as the doctor eased his jacket down off his left arm and would have toppled forward off the bed if not for Dean’s shoulder which his face thumped into.

“Easy, Sammy. Easy. Doc?” Dean asked, voice laden with concern.

“He’s alright. Just a reaction to the pain and the fever.” Flaxton assured him. “Lay him back. Setting this will be easier that way.”

Sam floated in a drugged haze, only vaguely registering the pain as his arm was scanned and then straightened. He felt an unnatural weight cocooning it firmly and each time he tried to flex his arm against it, a warm hand held him still. Dean, he thought and settled. The pain came again through the fog, this time in his shoulder, and panic struck him as the memory of the demonic nurse leaning over his face, grinning as she carefully poured holy water like acid into his shoulder filled his mind.

“N…no,” Sam groaned and tried to thrash.

“Hey. Sam.” Dean held him carefully down to keep him from hurting himself as he tossed himself awake from the painkillers the doctor had given him. “Sammy. Stop for a sec, Doc.”

Dr. Flaxton moved his hands back from cleaning the stitched wounds in Sam’s shoulder and waited, watching as Dean spoke softly and calmed his brother again. Dean wouldn’t tell him exactly what had happened, but had intimated that their last visit to the hospital had not gone so smoothly for the younger brother. The x-ray technician who’d come in had said the hospital was in chaos with half the doctors and nurses having lost days of memories, others more, and that at least nine people had been found lying dead in the halls, long gone cold.

“Ok, Doc,” Dean moved back and kept a hand curved around the back of Sam’s neck. “You can finish, just make it fast.” He squeezed his hand to stop his brother’s twitching as the doctor finished up and sighed in relief when he was finished.

“I’ll get a room set up for him upstairs.” Dr. Flaxton smiled at Dean. “He should be fine, but I’ll want to keep him overnight to monitor him and the fever.”

“Right, sure thing, Doc,” Dean agreed, having no intention of staying, but the doctor didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll be back shortly with an orderly to move him and the forms for you to fill out.”

Dean watched him leave and then nodded. “Alright, Sammy. Time to leave.” The longer they stayed, the more worried he became that one or more demons would come back and catch them unawares. He slid an arm behind Sam’s shoulders and gently lifted him, supporting his head, so he was sitting. “Sam? Up and at ‘em, princess.”

“Mmff.”

Dean chuckled. “Not good enough. Wake up. Come on, dude. We gotta shag ass, like, now.”

Sam cracked his eyes open grudgingly and scowled up at his brother. “Yer ‘noying.”

“And you’re high on pain meds,” Dean laughed and pulled Sam’s legs off the side of the bed. “Up.”

Sam got his legs under him, mostly, with Dean holding him up and looked down at his arm wrapped in some sort of brace and strapped to his chest. “When’d that happen?”

“Oh, man.” Dean rolled his eyes as they walked to the door. “It’s a hairline fracture the doc said. You’re gonna be a gimp for a couple weeks.”

“Why’re we leaving?” Sam asked as they made their way down the empty halls and then had a vague memory of hearing Dean’s voice intoning Latin over the loudspeakers. “Demons?”

“Yep. They’ll be back.” Dean checked around the corner and nodded, finding it clear and made Sam walk faster. “Pretty sure I pissed ‘em off.” He grinned as they reached the end of the hall and pushed open the door to the parking lot. “Almost there.” The Impala was just where he’d left her and he aimed them for it, then staggered to a stop as a very large, very tall man stepped out from around the dumpsters to block their way. Dean’s hand inched to the gun at the small of his back.

“What?” Dean asked angrily as the man stared down at them. He was at least an inch taller than Sam even with buzz-cut blonde hair and built like a linebacker. He didn’t relish the idea of having to try and take him down if he was possessed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” A small woman stepped out from behind the bruiser and smiled up at Dean with soft blue eyes while the multiple hoops hanging from her ears jangled softly. “He can be intimidating, but that is his job, isn’t it, Danny?”

Dean scowled as Danny nodded. He looked back to her and decided she wasn’t a woman; she was younger, in her teens he thought. “Something you want? Kinda busy here.”

She looked up to him and closed her eyes, swept a lock of black hair from her forehead and placed her fingers against her temples. “Dean Winchester. Sam Winchester.”

Dean jerked in surprise and tightened his grip on his brother. “Look, lady. I ain’t in the mood to be screwed with right now.” He pulled one of the flasks from his pocket, knocked the cap off and sprayed holy water over her and her pet giant. He was surprised when nothing happened other than indignant sputtering and a glare from Danny. “Huh.”

She wiped her face off and looked sadly at him. “We’re not demons. My name is Gloria. I’m a psychic.”

Dean rolled his eyes and started to go around them. “Peddle your crap somewhere else, lady.”

“No, I really am!” Gloria paced up beside him. “I had a vision of you and your brother. Please!”

Dean growled dangerously when Danny stepped in front of them again. “Dude, I don’t care how big you are. I will put you down if you don’t get the hell outta my way.”

“Dean, please.” Gloria put a hand on Danny’s arm, moving him aside. “I saw you both and…” She reached a hand up, just barely grazing her fingers on his face. “…I can see your lives on your faces.”

Dean shifted Sam away from her when she reached up to his face. “Do I look like I care?” He opened the passenger door of the Impala and let Sam slide into the seat before closing the door and turning a stony face back to her.

Gloria paled slightly but smiled anyway as he stalked past her and around the front of the muscle car. “I just wanted to say thank you. I see things, not…not specific events, but shadows of them and there are things you should be thanked for that you won’t be.”

“Wow. That’s…a stunning revelation,” Dean said sarcastically and opened the driver’s door.

Gloria scowled and planted her hands on her hips. “There are other things too, things that involve him.” She nodded in to Sam, making her earrings jingle again. “Things you should know.”

“I know enough.” Dean put one foot in the car and paused as she slapped her hands on the hood. “Scratch my baby and Hulk over there won’t save you.”

She pulled her hands back and clutched them to her chest. “He’s dangerous, Dean. He could…”

Dean’s face darkened. “If any part of that sentence ends in a threat to my brother, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Gloria opened her mouth then closed it as the dangerous look in his eyes finally registered. She didn’t argue as she felt Danny put a hand on her shoulder and pull her back from the car.

“That’s what I thought.” Dean shook his head and got in, slammed the door and gunned the engine as he left them behind. “Crazy ass psychics.” He glanced over at his brother, relieved to find him asleep with his head rolled into its customary spot on the window, thankful he hadn’t heard any of that nonsense. It bugged him, though, as he drove to their motel and packed their room up in record time, leaving the door open so he could see Sam outside, and continued to nag at him all the way back to Sylvie’s. Threats, even ridiculously vague ones, against his brother were something he always took seriously.

Dean had barely parked in the drive when Sylvie was out the door and on the porch. He got out and raised a hand as she bustled down the steps to him. “Hey, sorry. We’re ok.”

Sylvie smiled in relief, and then she saw Sam still in the car and slumped down. “You’re alright but what about Sam?” She went to the passenger door as Dean did and looked in at the dark head against the window. “He doesn’t look alright. What did you two get into already today?”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Birdzilla had another go at us, and Sam, uh…well, he kinda broke his arm a little.”

“Broke his arm…a little?” Sylvie stared up at him in disbelief and then snorted with disgust. “Broke his arm a little,” She muttered. “Get him inside. Let’s see the damage then.”

Dean chuckled and opened the door. He caught Sam’s slow topple out and held him up. “Hey. Sammy.”

“Mmf.” Sam groaned and blinked, squinting in the late afternoon sunlight. “S’goin’ on?”

“Back at Sylvie’s, dude, and I think she’s gonna ream me for neglecting you or some shit.” Dean snorted a laugh and pulled his brother up so he was standing. “You still high?”

“Mmm…kinda.” Sam gave his head a shake and tried to steady himself. “C’n walk on m’own.”

“Dude, you can’t talk on your own yet. Come on.” Dean tugged Sam’s good arm over his shoulder and pulled him into the house. Sylvie was waiting for them and waved him over to the couch. “It’s just a fracture, Sylvie,” Dean assured her. “Got it taken care of at the hospital.”

“The demon infested hospital?” Sylvie asked, incredulous. “How exactly did you manage that?”

Dean smirked and then grinned. “You’re gonna love this.” He quickly filled Sylvie in on what had happened in the forest and then his impromptu cleansing of the hospital, smiling when she burst into laughter.

“Oh, Dean Winchester, I like you. I really do.” Sylvie patted his shoulder and then moved him aside to sit next to Sam on the couch. “You’ve got style. Hey, Sam.” She rubbed her knuckles gently along his jaw and smiled when he cracked bleary eyes at her. “How are you feeling?” She took in the circles under his eyes and his arm strapped across his chest as well as the fresh bandages visible under his shirt at his shoulder.

“Floaty,” Sam told her and smirked when Dean laughed. “He’s a jerk.”

“Yeah just hold on, Princess. I got more drugs for you here.” Dean jogged back out to the car, grabbing their bags and came back in. He scowled when he found Sam had pushed himself up so he was sitting even as Sylvie tried to push him back down again. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Birdzilla. Gotta kill that thing,” Sam said and rolled his eyes as if that was obvious. “S’gonna kill someone else. I’m good.”

“Bullshit. Sorry, Sylvie.” Dean gave her a sheepish grin at his cussing and looked back to Sam, holding up the pill bottle. “What you’re gonna do is take these and sleep off that busted wing before we do anything else.”

“No. I can…I can do this, Dean.” Sam was adamant. He was not going to be responsible for someone else losing their life. He coughed a little to clear his throat. Whatever they’d given him at the hospital had given him an awful case of cotton mouth. “Can I have a drink, Sylvie, please?”

“I got it. You just…keep the idiot from falling over.” Dean turned and stalked into the kitchen then smirked as he pulled a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. He filled a glass for Sam, took out two of the pills from the bottle and used the flat of the chef’s knife on the counter to crush them before dumping the powder into the glass. He gave it a swirl, satisfied it was hidden and put his scowl firmly back in place before going back to the living room.

“Here. Suppose I can’t talk you out of this?” Dean asked as Sam took the glass from him and drank greedily.

Sam shook his head once he’d half emptied it, the juice a relief on his parched throat. “No. I’m going.”

“Yeah.” Dean leaned back against the mantle of the fireplace as the glass began to waver in Sam’s grasp. “You’re going to sleep, little brother. Better grab that glass, Sylvie.”

“Oh, my.” Sylvie plucked the half full glass from Sam’s hand as his grip loosened and he began a slow topple to his side. Dean was suddenly there to ease his brother down to the cushions. “You drugged him.”

Dean laughed. “Had to. No way I’m letting him tramp around after the giant killer bird like this.” He waved a hand at Sam and shook his head. “He’ll forgive me eventually.”

Sylvie shook her own head, amused. She pulled the quilt from the back of the couch and spread it over Sam while Dean put his brother’s legs back up on the cushions. “Well, at least I know I won’t have to worry about what you’re up to while I’m out.”

“Going somewhere?” Dean stood back and sat in the chair by the couch. “Oh!” He pulled his duffel up into his lap and pulled out a brown paper bag, handing it to her. “We, uh…we got you something. You know, like a…a thank you…or something.”

Sylvie watched him blush and chuckled as she opened the back and pulled out a bottle of red label whiskey. “Oh now that’s a gift I can get behind.” She smiled, looking at the amber liquid and turned the smile to Dean. “Thank you!”

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and grinned. “Well, you’re kinda awesome.”

She stood and set the bottle on the mantle then dropped a squeeze to Dean’s shoulder thinking it was amazing sometimes how quickly someone could worm their way into your heart. “I’ll be back in a little while. My goddaughter’s in the hospital. Haven’t visited her in weeks because of the uh…hellish conditions?” She laughed with him. “Sounds like I can finally see her safely, at least for now.”

Dean nodded. “Should take them a while to take control again, if they even bother.” He shrugged. “Don’t let your guard down, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Sylvie pulled her coat on and smiled at Sam’s sleeping form. She went around the side of the house and her little yellow car and pulled away from the house with a last look, almost going back to take care of them. She shook her head at herself as she drove. “They’re big boys. They can take care of themselves.”

The drive to the hospital went more quickly than she thought, traffic being light that day. Sylvie kept one hand in her purse around a bottle of holy water as she entered the hospital and found herself studying each face she passed as though she could see a demon hiding behind it. She found her goddaughter’s room after asking several people and walked in at last with a smile. She sat up in her bed, face a little pale and bandages evident here and there. Her eyes were closed, her face slightly upturned and Sylvie could tell she was communing with something. It had been the biggest shock of her life the day her goddaughter had come to her and told her she had supernatural abilities. The Hunter in Sylvie had instantly mistrusted them, while the mother in her had accepted without question and worked hard to comfort the girl whose vision had been taken away even as the new ability had manifested itself, like a trade-off.

She went to the bed and placed a gentle arm on her shoulder. “Jeanne, dear. Come back now.”

Jeanne’s sightless eyes opened and she smiled. “Sylvie.”

Sylvie patted her shoulder and sat on the edge of the bed. “Lurking in some unsuspecting animal’s mind again, were you?” It did bother her somewhat, Jeanne’s ability to see through an animal’s eyes, but she’d never been able to think of a way it could be dangerous and Jeanne nodded. “I do wish you’d spend less time doing that and more time in the real world with the rest of us.”

“Oh, but, Sylvie, the things I see.” Jeanne leaned back against her pillows, her blind eyes swiveling toward the sound of her godmother’s breathing. “Like you.” She reached a hand out until she found Sylvie’s arm and squeezed as her smile turned subtly to something darker. “You and Dean Winchester. How could you let him into your home?”

Sylvie startled badly and would have risen from the bed if not for the firm grip Jeanne had on her arm. “How…how could you possibly know that? I don’t have any pets for you to eavesdrop with. Jeanne? What have you been doing?”

“So many things.” Jeanne shrugged and kept her hold on the woman. “I found a new bird to fly with Sylvie. Oh he’s amazing. I see so many things and this bird…he understands me. He listens.”

Sylvie felt a growing sense of horror as Jeanne’s eyes lit with a fervent light. “What have you done?” She whispered. “What bird?”

“If he has a name, I don’t know it. Doesn’t matter.” Jeanne sighed. “I find…meals for him. I keep him happy but lately…lately, Sylvie, his meals have been taken from him…protected.” She tightened her grip on Sylvie’s arm. “Dean and his brother, they’re making him go hungry, but I’ll fix them. I will. You should make sure they leave.”

“Oh, my God…Jeanne?” Sylvie tugged on her arm to no effect. Finally, she reached her hand over and pried Jeanne’s fingers away until she could jerk off the bed and stood, staring down at her in shock and horror. “You…the thing that’s been killing people…it’s you. How can it be you?”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean turned off the shower with a grateful sigh, happy to finally have a chance to be clean. He’d slapped himself for being unobservant earlier when he’d grabbed the salt to safeguard the house and found it already was and he hadn’t noticed. Every window and door had a well-tended line of salt and there were protective symbols carved unobtrusively into every windowsill and door frame. He smirked as he toweled himself off for not seeing any of it before then. Some Hunter he was. He pulled on his clean clothes and padded down the stairs barefoot with a whistle to check on his brother.

“Hey, Sammy, you awake yet?” Dean slowed as he reached the bottom of the stairs and warning bells went off in his head. The front door was standing open. “What the hell?” He went to it quickly and shut it, noting the salt line beneath it was intact and then ran to the living room. “Sam?” The couch was empty and the quilt that had covered his brother when he’d gone upstairs lay in a pile on the floor. “Sam!” There was no answer. Dean turned back to the front door and hissed as he stepped on something sharp. “Shit!” He bent down and then stared as his brain made sense of what he was holding. It was an earring of concentric circles that jingled softly as he held it up in front of his face and his face darkened with a murderous rage.

“Son of a bitch.”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_To Be Continued...  
_


	6. Chapter 6

_Dean turned off the shower with a grateful sigh, happy to finally have a chance to be clean. He’d slapped himself for being unobservant earlier when he’d grabbed the salt to safeguard the house and found it already was and he hadn’t noticed. Every window and door had a well-tended line of salt and there were protective symbols carved unobtrusively into every windowsill and door frame. He smirked as he toweled himself off for not seeing any of it before then. Some Hunter he was. He pulled on his clean clothes and padded down the stairs barefoot with a whistle to check on his brother._

_“Hey, Sammy, you awake yet?” Dean slowed as he reached the bottom of the stairs and warning bells went off in his head. The front door was standing open. “What the hell?” He went to it quickly and shut it, noting the salt line beneath it was intact and then ran to the living room. “Sam?” The couch was empty and the quilt that had covered his brother when he’d gone upstairs lay in a pile on the floor. “Sam!” There was no answer. Dean turned back to the front door and hissed as he stepped on something sharp. “Shit!” He bent down and then stared as his brain made sense of what he was holding. It was an earring of concentric circles that jingled softly as he held it up in front of his face and his face darkened with a murderous rage._

_“Son of a bitch.”_

**_CHAPTER 6_ **

Sam swam up through a fog with a moan. His head was spinning and it felt like the couch was moving beneath him. He frowned; it didn’t feel like Sylvie’s couch anymore. He was lying on something hard. The last thing he remembered was Dean bringing him a drink. He frowned and cracked his eyes. It only deepened his confusion. He was in the back of a van on the floor.

“Dean?”

“Oh, dear, you’re not supposed to be awake yet, Sam.” A young woman leaned over him.

“Who?” Sam squinted, trying to see her clearly and distracted by the light, jingling sound of the multiple hoops in one of her ears. “Where’s Dean?”

“Shh, shush now.” She brought a hand up and covered his nose and mouth with a cloth.

Sam struggled as he smelled something sickly sweet, unable to stop himself breathing it in as she pressed it hard over his nose and mouth. He tried to bring his arms up and realized only then they were bound behind him. He tried to roll but couldn’t escape as she held it firmly in place and smiled down at him. His head swam again, her voice sounded as though it was coming through water, and he groaned and darkness came to swallow him again.

Sam woke again, fighting the effects of the painkillers and whatever had been on the cloth. Opening his eyes, he saw the van again as the cloth returned, putting him under. The next time he managed to open his eyes, the van had stopped. He turned his head to avoid the cloth and couldn’t. He blinked and fought the urge to throw up, finding himself slung over someone’s shoulder and being carried. There were wooden steps, a door, then an aged, well-worn wooden floor. He hissed out a pained breath as he was dumped to the floor on his injured shoulder and rolled to his back with firm hands that held him in place as the girl and the hated cloth returned, pushing him back into blackness while he tried to shout for his brother.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean strode out onto the porch, his rage at finding Sam kidnapped held barely in check as he headed for his car. He paused as Sylvie turned up the drive and parked behind him. He wanted to snarl at her to move her car, he had to go, but he bit his tongue while she got out.

“Sylvie, you need to move your car. Please.” Dean slapped a hand onto the roof of the Impala. “Some teenage psychic bitch has my brother.” He snarled it in spite of himself.

“What? Sam’s been taken?” Sylvie pushed her own shock aside, still numb from the realization that her goddaughter was responsible for all the deaths. “Uh…ok. Wait, psychic?” She shook her head, trying to clear it and focus instead on the disaster she _could_ fix.

“Couldn’t be more than 18. Wears these.” Dean pulled the jingling earring from his pocket and held it up, working hard not to close his fist and crush it. “Said her name was…”

“Gloria. Dammit.” Sylvie groaned and wiped a hand down her face. “I always thought she was just a flighty pain in the ass. She’s nineteen by the way. I think I know where we can find her.Let me move my car.”

Dean watched her dash back to her car and then slid in the Impala. He looked over at the empty passenger seat as he turned it on and scowled. “Gettin’ you back, Sammy,” He said softly and cleared his throat as Sylvie returned, climbing into the seat beside him. He backed out quickly, turning onto the road as Sylvie pointed him in the right direction. Dean spared a glance at her as he drove and frowned. She was pale and her face drawn tight in that way Sam had when he was trying to hold something in.

“Sylvie? You alright?” Dean asked softly. Concern for her broke through his need to find his brother for a moment.

Sylvie shook her head, eyes stubbornly on the road. “I, uh…” She sighed and gave herself a shake, reminding herself that the woman she’d left in the hospital was no longer the girl she’d watched grow up. “I know who’s controlling the creature.” She raised a hand to stop him when Dean opened his mouth. “I swear to you, I had no idea she’d…turned like this or I would have done…something to stop her. God.” She dropped her head into her hands.

“You know her, personally,” Dean shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“She’s my goddaughter.” Sylvie raised her head back, wiping at her eyes in irritation. “She was a good woman once, but a year ago she…she went blind and when it happened it was like…something gave her a new way of seeing to…compensate. I don’t know.”

“Blind?” Dean felt a little niggle at the back of his mind but brushed it off because what were the odds?

“It happened suddenly, no reason the doctors could find and then one day she said she could…see through the eyes of the cardinal outside her hospital window.” Sylvie shook her head. “She said she was actually looking at herself. I never realized she could actually control the animals she…used…until today.”

“What happened today?” Dean took a left turn when Sylvie pointed and glanced over at her. She looked miserable and a little scared.

“She admitted it,” Sylvie said softly and twined her fingers together in her lap. “She actually told me she was controlling the creature…sending it to kill people…to kill you and Sam. Oh, God.”

Dean had a bad feeling, the niggle becoming an all-out warning in his head. “Sylvie…please tell me your goddaughter’s name isn’t Jeanne.” Sylvie’s head whipped around to stare at him open-mouthed and Dean groaned. “Son of a bitch.”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean eased up to the porch of the small cabin Sylvie had led him too. She was making her way around the back with his shotgun that she held with an expert grip and grim smile. She had extracted a promise from Dean to not kill anyone unless he absolutely had to. The look on his face had apparently worried her. He smirked and brought his gun up level with the door. He could hear voices speaking inside and then a sound that had him rearing back and kicking the door in --Sam’s voice raised in a groan of pain. The door slammed in, the lock shattering out the wood of the frame and Dean shouldered it aside as he stepped in and aimed at the head of Danny, Gloria’s bodyguard, who had Sam over one shoulder while she stood beside him with a white cloth pressed into his brother’s face.

“Get the hell away from him, you crazy bitch!” Dean shouted and was gratified when she stumbled back in shock at the rage on his face. Danny, however, seemed less impressed and didn’t even flinch. Dean swung the barrel up between his eyes and snarled. “You have exactly two seconds to get your giant paws off my brother before I end you.” Dean pulled the hammer back and Danny finally seemed to understand how much pain he was about to be in. He raised his hands and let Sam roll off his shoulder to crash into the floor. “Oh, you son of a bitch!” Dean took two quick steps while the idiot grinned and plowed his fist under the taller man’s jaw. Danny slapped back into the wall and slid down it in a daze while Gloria screamed and dropped beside him.

Sylvie came in from the back and stared in surprise. “You didn’t shoot anyone.”

“You made me promise not to. Watch those morons.” Dean put his gun up and bent, rolling Sam carefully to his back. He hissed in sympathy seeing fresh blood soaking through his t-shirt at the shoulder. They had re-opened his wounds. “Dammit. Sam?” He cupped the side of Sam’s face and leaned over him. His nose wrinkled as an odd, sweet smell reached his nose and he looked over at Gloria, glaring death. “What’d you do to him?”

“I…nothing. It’s just…chloroform. Perfectly har…harmless.” Gloria stuttered fearfully.

“Harmless?” Dean yelled but subsided when Sylvie gave him what had to be a patented ‘grandmother’ stare. He turned back to his brother instead and pulled him carefully up so he was sitting against him. He was hot to the touch but opened his eyes as Dean watched. “Hey, tiger.”

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was a whisper of confusion as his head rolled, trying to see where he was now.

“Hey, hey, easy,” Dean soothed and took the side of his face again to still him. “Sammy. Right here, dude.”

“Non hic…non magis…placere. Non…magis...” Sam’s voice was rough and slurred.

Dean had to bend to hear him and scowled. “Dude is that…Latin?”

Sylvie sighed sadly. “He’s saying he doesn’t think you’re really here and…” She glared down at Gloria. “…no more, please, no more.”

“Ubi…ubi estfrat…fratrem meum?” Sam shuddered in Dean’s grip.

“He’s calling for you.” Sylvie told Dean and turned a look on her two captives that rivaled Dean’s rage.

“That one I got,” Dean said softly and tightened his hold on Sam. “Sammy. I’m right here, come on, man. English. Look at me.” He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or concerned. He had seen Sam delirious from concussions, fevers, venom, and various other near disasters more times that he wanted to remember, but rambling in Latin? This was something new.

Dean’s voice seeped through the delirium in Sam’s mind and he looked up, finding his big brother hunched over him protectively. He smiled and let out a long breath. “Dean.” He sighed and let himself drift away again. “Late.”

Dean snorted with relief. “I am not late. Got your ass, don’t I?”

“Up, both of you.” Sylvie gestured with the shotgun and waited until Gloria had helped her still-dazed bodyguard to his feet. “Go on. Closet.” She shoved them the way she wanted them to go with the gun in Danny’s back until they were moving.

“Dean.” Gloria spun back as Sylvie shoved Danny into the closet. “Sam has a destiny. One day, you might have to do something…” She shook her head and looked pleadingly at him. “I can do us all a favor, Dean, if you just let me…”

“You finish that sentence and Sylvie’s only gonna have one person to lock in there,” Dean growled and didn’t even look at her; the temptation to hurt her was too great.

“Get the hell in.” Sylvie took Gloria’s arm and pushed her inside then slammed the door. She grabbed a nearby chair and tilted it, wedging it beneath the handle and effectively locking them in before going to the brothers. “How is he?”

Dean shook his head. “He’s been better.” He shoved a hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“What are we going to do about dumb and dumber?” Sylvie asked, hooking a thumb over her shoulder at the closet.

Dean smirked and held up the phone. “Got it covered.” He smiled when a familiar voice answered. “Officer Gary. Dean here.” He paused and smirked. “Yeah, that Dean. I need you to do me and Sam a favor…yeah. Need you to come arrest Gloria the psychic and her idiot bodyguard for kidnapping.” Dean’s face darkened as he looked down at his brother. “Sam. They took him right out of Sylvie’s house, drugged him.”

Sylvie reached over and pulled the phone out of his hand, putting it to her own ear while Dean growled. “Gary? This is Sylvie. Yes, they’ll be at my house. Do us all a favor and keep it to yourself.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Gloria is for real. There are real psychics and real monsters.” She chuckled. “Well, you can ask me about it later.” She looked down at her watch and out at the fading daylight. “Better make that tomorrow. Sam’s certainly not going to be in any condition to give a statement until then. Alright.”

Dean took the phone she handed back with a shake of his head. “You’re somethin’, Sylvie.”

“Oh, honey, you have no idea.” She grinned and then put a hand on Sam’s head. “We should get him out of here don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Ok, Sasquatch.” Dean got Sam up with Sylvie’s help. “Go get the back door open. I’ll bring him out.” He wrapped Sam’s good arm around his neck and sighed. Sam wasn’t awake to walk for himself, and Dean couldn’t make himself toss him over his shoulder after what Gloria’s monkey had done. Instead, he risked crippling his back, bent and swept Sam’s legs up with his other arm. “Holy…crap.” Dean gasped. It took him a moment to find his balance with Sam’s weight held in front of him but he did and staggered to the door and then outside. He was grateful there were only three steps down to the ground as he reached the bottom and headed for the car.

Sylvie stood by the door and while she smirked at the image of Dean carrying his larger brother like a child. Inwardly it warmed her heart to see the concern on his face. Dean reached the car and bent awkwardly, letting Sam’s legs drop. Sylvie helped hold him up while Dean eased him around.

“This was easier…when he was nine,” Dean panted, making Sylvie chuckle. “Need a damn can opener these days.” Between them, and with Dean crawling across the backseat and out the other side, they got Sam inside and laid out as comfortable as possible before closing the doors. “Thanks, Sylvie.”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam woke groggy in the car as they reached Sylvie’s, and Dean wondered if it wouldn’t have been easier getting him inside and up the stairs if he’d just carried him again. His feet seemed to catch on every step with a muttered apology, sometimes in English and others in Latin. It was amusing and worrying at the same time for Dean. He had no way of knowing how many times Gloria had put Sam under with the chloroform and Sam had already had the painkillers Dean had slipped him in his system.

“Dean…tired,” Sam mumbled as they reached the bedroom.

Sylvie opened the door more widely so they could get through. “I’ll go put a kettle on and get some supplies to clean up that shoulder.”

“Thanks. Here you go, buddy.” Dean smiled seeing there were two beds in the room and took Sam to the far bed, sitting him down. “Let’s get this shirt off first, huh?” Sam gave him a weary nod but made no move to do it himself. Dean snorted and carefully eased the now blood-spotted shirt off over his head, then helped ease him down to the pillow. “Be right back, Sam.”

Dean left and jogged down the stairs to the kitchen, wanting to make sure Sylvie brought everything he’d need to fix up his brother’s shoulder. He pulled off his jacket and slung it over one of the high-backed kitchen chairs. “Hey, I’ll need…” He broke off as he saw her just standing, clutching a cordless phone to her chest. “You alright?”

Sylvie looked up at him and set the phone aside. “Jeanne. She’s not in the hospital anymore. She checked herself out. She’s hiding…from me.”

“It’s not your fault, Sylvie.” Dean shook his head and patted her shoulder. “There’s nothing else you could have done except sit on her twenty-four seven and then where would Sam be if you hadn’t come back?” He smiled down at her as she rolled her eyes. “Never would have found him if you hadn’t come back.”

“Yeah, you would have.” Sylvie smiled her thanks at him for absolving her of guilt but she still felt it. “Here.” She handed him the first aid kit and a bottle of whiskey. “Figure you could use a medicinal hit or two yourself.”

Dean chuckled and bent down to drop a kiss on top of her head. “You’re awesome.”

“So you’ve said. Go take care of Sam.” Sylvie shooed him out of the kitchen. “I’ll bring up some fresh bandages.”

Dean turned to leave and then stopped. “Sylvie, if we have to…deal…with Jeanne, will you be alright with that?”

The question choked her up and Sylvie sighed deeply. “She was such a good girl until the blindness and the…I don’t know…powers. Maybe her father and I were too soft on her.” She shook her head. “Her mother died in a freak fire when she was six months old and I suppose we molly-coddled her.”

Dean went cold with her words. “Freak fire?”

Sylvie nodded. “In her nursery. Jeanne’s lucky to be alive. Dean?” She watched all the blood drain out of his face. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I gotta get upstairs.” Dean turned and walked out with shock coursing through him; there were just too many parallels to be ignored. He climbed the stairs and had to stop in the door to just look at his little brother for a moment, collecting himself before he went in. “Hey, Sammy.” Dean sat beside him and gently brushed the dark hair obscuring his eyes from his face.

“Dean?” Sam rolled his head into the cool hand and opened his eyes. “Where?”

“Sylvie’s. You’re ok.” Dean leaned over and peeled the now bloody bandage from his shoulder as carefully as he could.

Sam frowned, raising his other arm to his head. “M’I runnin’ a fever?”

“Yeah, genius.” Dean pushed his hand back down. “How’s your head?”

“Feels weird.” Sam closed his eyes again and wished his head would stop spinning.

Dean looked down at him and then frowned, looking down at his own chest. His eyes widened and he slapped a hand to his neck looking for the familiar thong that held his amulet. It wasn’t there. He scrabbled at the neck of his shirt, then his flannel then stood off the bed and shook his shirts, expecting it to fall out. When it didn’t he sucked in a breath and laid a hand over the empty spot on his chest. He felt…naked without its comforting weight.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” Sam looked up to see his brother standing beside the bed with a stunned look on his face. He reached out to him instinctively.

“What? No, uh….nothing.” Dean took his brother’s arm and folded it back beside him before sitting back down. There was no way he was telling Sam he’d managed to lose his amulet. It meant too much to them both. He couldn’t. “Just thought…felt something crawling on me. Nothing there though. Relax.”

Sam frowned, not believing him but let it go for the moment as the room did a lazy spin and turned his stomach at the same time. He slammed his eyes closed while his skin burned and Dean cleaned out the scratches on his shoulder. He jerked in surprise as something cold landed on his brow.

“Easy, Sam.” Sylvie pressed the back of her hand to his cheek when he stared up at her under the cold cloth. She’d soaked some cold cloths and come up as quickly as she could after feeling the fever burning through him in the car. “Just me.”

“Thank you,” Sam whispered and let his eyes closed again on the two of them, Dean and Sylvie, leaning over him.

“How’s his shoulder?” Sylvie leaned in front of Dean for a look and sighed. The skin was red and inflamed and the scratches oozing blood in a couple places.

“He’s had worse.” Dean smiled at her and shrugged. “He’ll get over it.” He checked to see that Sam was asleep and nodded before looking over at Sylvie as she handed him a clean bandage. “Sylvie, you should know…our mom died when Sam was six months old.” Dean spoke softly, afraid to have Sam wake again and hear him. “Fire in his nursery, but it…wasn’t an accident. Something caused that fire and…” He stopped, not sure why he was trusting this woman with something they hadn’t even told their absent father about, but he thought maybe it was because she could understand like no one else because of Jeanne. “’Bout a year ago Sam started having visions.” He watched her eyes widen in shock and recognition. “Gives him migraines that put him on the ground every time, but what he sees…happens.”

“Oh, my God,” Sylvie breathed and looked down at Sam with surprise.

Dean nodded and lowered his voice even more. “It terrifies him. He doesn’t think I know that.” He smirked fondly as he taped the last bandage in place. “He can be pretty dumb for someone so smart, but…it scares me too.” He looked up at her, needing to be clear. “I’m not scared of him. Sam’s…he’s too good a person to ever be like Jeanne. I’m scared of what they mean for him…of what they do to him.”

Sylvie nodded and put a hand to his arm. “I believe you. I’ve seen enough of Sam now to know that he’s nothing like my goddaughter. Why don’t you go grab a cup of coffee? You’ll need it. I’ll sit with him for a minute.”

Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, ok.”

“Dean, thank you,” Sylvie said sincerely with damp eyes. “For trusting me with him.” She smiled as he gave a gruff nod and left. She sat beside Sam and put an affectionate hand to the side of his face. Sylvie leaned forward and placed a feather light kiss on top of his head. “I wish Jeanne had turned out like you, Sam,” She whispered. “You’re a good man.”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean woke, as he had twice already in the night, to the sound of Sam’s voice rising steadily from the bed beside him. He rolled up with a groan and looked over. Sam was thrashing under the thin blanket and muttering.

“Damn.” Dean went and sat beside him, clasping a hand on Sam’s good shoulder with a wince for the fever driven sweat sticking the sheet to him. “Sammy?” He frowned, leaning closer to make out what Sam was saying.

“Sorry…sorry, Dad.” Sam muttered. In his head, through the fever and the fog left from the drugs, he heard his father’s voice raised in disappointment at him, telling him he was a failure as a Hunter and as a son. Sam shook his head to deny it, feeling the weight of a life time of trying to measure up to his big brother in their father’s eyes. “Not a f-failure.”

Dean stared at him as Sam’s voice rose and tears rolled from his closed eyes down to the pillow. It had only taken a moment to realize that in Sam’s delirious state, he thought their father was there and it was not a happy conversation. “Sam. Sam, wake up.” Dean gave him a shake but his brother’s voice rose.

“No, not a…sorry, Dad. I tried.” Sam argued with him and wanted him to see how hard he had tried and was trying again to be what he wanted him to be but then… in his fevered mind, his father blamed him for Jessica’s death, and then he broke Sam’s heart when he laid his mother’s at his feet as well. “No; not my fault. Dad, please!” Dean’s heart broke a little at the guilt and desperation in his brother’s voice.

“Sammy, you’re not a failure.” Dean told him and took his face in his hands to hold him still. “Sam.”

“Mom…not my f…fault.” Sam’s tears were falling hard and Dean fought the pressure behind his own as he held his brother’s head and tried to talk sense to him.

Dean looked at him horrified when he realized just what was going on in his brother’s tortured mind.“You are not responsible for Mom, Sam,” Dean said fiercely. “And not for Jess either. It’s not your fault, Sammy. Come on, you gotta wake up.”

Sylvie stood in the hall with her hands over her mouth and her own tears on her face. Sam’s distressed voice had woken her from a sound sleep and pulled her down the hall, and the words he spoke had driven into her heart. She had a sudden, intense need to meet their father and give him a strong talking-to for loading so much guilt on such a young man’s shoulder. She choked up even more as Dean’s low voice died away and he gathered his younger brother up into his arms in a hug to comfort him. She sniffed without realizing and startled as Dean’s head spun to find her in the door.

“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry,” She said softly and hastily wiped the tears from her face. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Dean nodded with Sam trembling against his chest. “It’s alright.” He started to lay Sam back and rolled his eyes when he found his brother had curled his fingers into his shirt, holding on. He sighed and let him settle back.

“I’m going to go…check my library.” Sylvie pushed her hair off her face and straightened her dressing gown. “See if I can find you a better way to kill…Birdzilla.”

“You have a library?” Dean asked quietly.

Sylvie sniffed. “Of course I do. Any Hunter who stays around as long as I have has one.” She left him with his brother and went downstairs, doing her best to put her emotions back in order. Those boys had worked their way into her heart without a doubt, and she thought any father should be proud of them. She passed the kitchen on the way to her cellar and stopped as she heard the strains of a rock song coming from Dean’s jacket. She fished his phone out of the pocket, looked upstairs and decided he didn’t need bothering just then. She flipped it open and headed for the cellar.

“Hello?”

“Dea…who the hell is this?”

The gruff, instantly angry voice on the other end made Sylvie chuckle even as she hoped it was their father. She wanted a word with him. “My name is Sylvie. Dean can’t come to the phone just now. Who is this?”

“Sylvie?” The man said in surprise. “Name’s Bobby Singer and, lady, you better give me a good reason not to come lookin’ for those boys right now.”

“If you’re their father, you’re more than welcome to.” Sylvie went down the stairs into her cellar and geared herself up for an argument. “I’ll be more than happy to give you a piece of my mind in person.”

“Whoa! Whoa, I’m not their Dad.” Bobby said hurriedly and then chuckled, sensing a kindred spirit. “But, as it happens, I’ve unloaded on the jackass more than once.”

Sylvie smiled as she pushed on the false wall that hid her Hunter’s library and clicked on the light. “Dean’s taking care of Sam. He’s alright…well, he will be.”

“Sam?” Bobby’s voice dripped with concern with just a single word and Sylvie smiled softly as she sat at her desk.

“I promise, he really will be fine. There was a bit of…excitement…today. Dean’s taking good care of him.” She assured him, choosing her words carefully, unsure of how much this stranger on the phone knew, despite his very obvious concern for the boys.

“Of course he is.” Bobby laughed softly and leaned back at his desk, appreciating the woman’s voice. He hesitated a moment and then took a chance, giving in to a sneaking suspicion that had formed in the back of his mind.“So, Sylvie. Hunter?”

“Retired.” Sylvie leaned back in her chair, listening to the gravelly timbre of his voice and enjoying it. “You?”

“Still kickin’ and tryin’ to keep those boys in one piece.” Bobby chuckled. “Woman with a voice like yours oughta be answerin’ phones and makin’ men blush.”

Sylvie burst into laughter as she blushed herself. “Bobby Singer, have you ever actually used that line on a woman before?”

“First time for everything.” Bobby smirked and slapped himself in the head for saying something so ridiculous.

She wiped her eyes and readjusted the phone. “Oh, I needed that laugh. I’m doing some research for your boys. Hoping I can find them a better way to kill Birdzilla in my library.”

“You have a library?” Bobby sat forward with a grin on his face. “Sylvie, I think I like you. And what in hell’s a Birdzilla? Fill me in.”

Sylvie kicked back at her desk, putting her slippered feet up on the corner and settled in to talk shop. “Well, there’s a lot to tell. Best get a drink.”

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam woke to sunlight streaming through a window into his face and rolled away from it with a groan. He blinked his eyes open and saw he was alone in the room. He rubbed grit out of his eyes and sat up, careful of his shoulder. He smiled when he found his fever had broken sometime in the night, then frowned as bits and pieces of dreams came back to him.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Dean said cheerfully as he came in and saw his brother sitting up. He’d managed three or four hours of sleep once Sam’s fever had finally broken and the limpet had let him go. He held out a cup of coffee under Sam’s face. “How you feelin’?”

“Better, Dean…was Dad here?” Sam looked up in confusion and it only grew at the expression on Dean’s face.

“No, Sam. Just us.” Dean gestured to the cup. “Drink, dude, and take a shower or somethin’. You stink.” He left Sam rolling his eyes and headed back downstairs rubbing a hand over where his amulet should have been. He was missing it like a limb or a sense and the lack of its weight was throwing him off.

Sam watched after him curiously, knowing something more was going on but obviously his brother wasn’t in the mood for sharing. He shook his head, sipped his coffee and stood. He swayed for a moment and steadied with a smile. “Shower sounds like a slice of heaven right now.”

Dean strode back into the kitchen and smiled to find Sylvie there and all but cuddling the coffee maker. “Morning, Sylvie.”

“Oh, I do love a man who knows how to make a brew.” She poured a cup and took a deep sniff before turning and giving him a wide smile. “I was up a little late tracking down your Birdzilla with Bobby. His research skills are really quite exceptional.”

“Bobby?” Dean said in surprise and then began to grin as Sylvie’s face reddened and she gave all her attention to her coffee mug. He chuckled and shook his head. “That sly dog.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Dean Winchester.” Sylvie found her pride enough to shake a finger at him. “We just talked.”

“Uh huh.” Dean nodded and dropped into a chair. “What’d you two talk about? …all night.”

Sylvie groaned and rubbed her blush-warm face. “Honestly. I’m too old to feel like a teenager caught out. We talked about the hunt, about the creature.”

“Mmm hmm.” Dean grinned at her, enjoying himself and looking forward to eventually teasing Bobby about it. “So, what’d you find on Birdzilla?”

“Not a lot, I’m sorry to say.” Sylvie shrugged and sat across from him. “It’s not a mystical creature as far as we can find. I mean, it doesn’t seem to require any special means to kill it.” She smiled. “You shoot it in the right place and it should die.”

“Ok, that’s a relief.” Dean’s expression turned serious. “What about Jeanne?”

“I’ll handle her,” Sylvie said determinedly with a nod of her head. “That’s my mistake.” She raised a hand when he opened his mouth. “My oversight. I should have watched her more carefully. People have died because of her. I’m going to stop her.”

Dean didn’t ask if she would be able to kill her goddaughter if it came to it; he could see it on her face. Sylvie was a Hunter and family or not, Jeanne had gone darkside. He rubbed at his chest again and jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey, Sammy.” He looked up guiltily at his brother and stood.

“Dean, what…” Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“We got a plan.” Dean smiled and took his mug to refill it.

“Ok.” Sam watched Dean go to the coffee maker with a frown. Something was definitely off with his big brother. “What’s the plan?”

“How’s your shoulder, Sam?” Sylvie rose and went around the table, pushing him gently into a chair. She tugged the neck of his shirt away to peek in at the wounds.

“Fine. It’s good this morning,” Sam smiled and rolled his eyes when his brother grinned at him. “Plan?”

“We’re gonna go hunt down Birdzilla and gank it.” Dean set the fresh mug of coffee in front of his brother and shoved over the sugar and creamer. “While Sylvie takes care of Jeanne.”

“Who?” Sam looked up as Sylvie’s hands suddenly stilled. “Sylvie? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Sam.” She shook her head and sat beside him. “So much.”

Sam sat in shock as they explained what they’d learned to him. When they were finally finished, he looked up to his big brother with such a tortured expression that Dean’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest.

“Just like Max,” Sam said softly and looked back down at his coffee cup, turning it on the table as if held answers.

“You’re not Max.” Dean said fiercely. “And you won’t be. You’ve got me to keep you straight, idiot.” He cuffed the back of Sam’s head and felt a little better when he smirked up at him.

“Max?” Sylvie looked between them and then sighed. “Another child like Jeanne and…”

“Me. Yeah.” Sam finished for her. He shook himself and pushed the coffee away. “Let’s go do this.” He stood and took Sylvie’s arm gently as she rose beside him. “Sylvie, are you sure you can…handle Jeanne on your own?”

“I’ll be fine, Sam.” She reached up and patted his cheek with a smile. “You boys go take care of the creature.”

“Come on, Sammy.” Dean headed out of the kitchen and stopped himself rubbing the empty spot on his chest as he passed his brother, relieved that Sam hadn’t noticed the missing amulet yet. He wasn’t looking forward to having to explain that.

“Sylvie…be careful. Please?” Sam couldn’t stop himself leaning down and placing a soft kiss on top of her head before following his brother.

Sylvie watched them bustle out the front door and sighed. “You boys be careful too,” She said softly and then headed upstairs to dress and fortify herself to confront her goddaughter. She had a good idea where to find her.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Each time Dean bent down to check a track on the forest floor, he missed the need to keep the heavy amulet from slapping into his face. He sighed and straightened, trying not to notice Sam watching him with a little frown. “You see anything yet?”

Sam shook his head and adjusted his grip on his rifle. “Nothing. Maybe we need to look a little higher up.” He nodded up into the trees. “Logically, there’s no way the creature’s been able to see us through the canopy every time it’s come after us so, maybe it’s hanging out in a tree top somewhere, watching.”

“Huh. Not bad.” Dean smiled and headed deeper into the trees with Sam at his back. He focused his attention on the bases of each tree as they passed, looking for signs of things being knocked down.

Sam paced behind him and rolled his shoulder carefully. It ached and he knew he was still running a fever, though not as high as the night before. He was keeping his distance from Dean to keep him from noticing. The last thing he wanted was his big brother going ‘mama bear’ on him again. He rolled his eyes and smirked. “Hey.” Sam stopped and pointed the wide trunk of an old tree ahead of them. “Check that out.” The base of the tree was littered with pine cones and branches, resting around and on top of a large thorn bush snugged up against the trunk.

“Looks promising.” Dean walked over, looking up and groaned. “Tree climbing. Awesome.” He handed his rifle to Sam and then jumped to grab the lowest hanging branches, pulling himself up.

Sam chuckled as Dean’s legs pulled out of sight. He suddenly didn’t mind his messed up shoulder just then; it got him out of having to climb. “Careful!” He called and danced back as several small branches rained down over him.

Dean growled as he pulled himself up the tree. The bark was rough, irritating his hands as he climbed. “Almost as bad…as camping,” He grumbled as he curled around between a close grown group of branches and pulled himself above them. He was a good thirty feet up in the tree and nearing the wide crown when the first angry chitter sounded. Dean turned his head and his eyes widened. Inches from his face was a nest, an evil looking crow hunched over several eggs, glaring at him with beady eyes, and three very pissed squirrels whose tails rose up behind them, fluffed out and twitching.

“Oh, crap,” Dean whispered. He started to pull away and shouted in surprise as two of the squirrels launched at his head. “Shit!” He ducked the furry projectiles, cursing again when he felt claws swipe across his forehead and tried climbing back down as the squirrels followed his retreat chittering and hissing at him.

“Dean?” Sam heard the commotion above while leaves and more branches showered down and his brother cursed.

Dean shouted as one of the hairy little bastards attached itself to the front of his jacket. He batted the squirrel away and then made a frantic grab for anything to hold on to as he lost his balance. His feet slipped and he went down fast through the remaining branches. He had a glimpse of Sam’s surprised face and then he crashed into the bush at the base of the tree.

“Fuck!” Dean yelled and threw himself out of the bush and to the ground as a multitude of stings stabbed into his backside.

“Holy crap! Dean? Are you alright?” Sam knelt beside him where he crouched on the ground, glancing up into the tree apprehensively, half expecting an attack. “What the hell happened?”

Dean growled. He tried to sit up straight and ended up back on his hands. “Don’t…ask.”

“Come on.” Sam took his arm and pulled him to his feet where Dean bent double with a hiss of pain. “What? Your back?”

Dean shook his head miserable and pointed behind him. “Thorn bush.”

Sam looked back, then looked down and couldn’t help the chuckle that forced its way out of him. The backside of Dean’s jeans were riddled in thorns and spots of blood. “You look like a porcupine.”

“Dude, I swear, you keep laughin’ at me, I am gonna toss you face first in that damn bush!” Dean craned his head to glare up at his brother. He tried to reach around and ended up brushing several of them, driving pain up into his spine. “Dammit!”

“Uh…ok. Ok.” Sam worked to catch his breath, fighting the urge to all out guffaw at the sight. “Here. Come here.” He pulled Dean over to a partially fallen tree so he could lean his arms on the trunk. “Maybe if you just…uh…yank your pants down, they’ll…they’ll come out. Crap.” He had to turn away and cover his face as the laugh bubbled back up.

Dean snarled as he undid his belt buckle. He stood as straight as he could, checking to make sure Sam wasn’t looking. He took several deep breaths and then pulled his jeans and shorts down in a swift move. He shouted with pain and leaned on the trunk again. “Are they out? You’re gonna have to look, asshole, if you can stop laughing long enough.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Sam turned back, ruthlessly biting his lip and rolled his eyes at the sight of his brother’s bare ass, speckled with blood and several thorns still standing out of it. “Oh, man.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Um…didn’t get them all.”

“Well, I can’t see ‘em, Sam.” Dean turned his head to look at him with raised brows. “Can’t hunt Birdzilla like this. You’re gonna have to take one for the team.”

“Me? Dude, I’m not…” Sam trailed off and groaned. He leaned his rifle up beside Dean and pulled the Swiss army knife from his pocket. “Can’t believe I have to do this.”

“Hey! Not exactly a picnic for me either. Hurry up!” Dean closed his eyes as his face flushed bright red in humiliation.

“Grumpy.” Sam pulled the tweezers from the end of the compact knife and bent over Dean’s butt. “This is not happening.” He gripped the first thorn and did his best to ignore the fact it was his brother’s bare ass he was bent over. He pulled it out and Dean yelped. “Sorry. Few more.” Sam plucked two more free and laughed softly as Dean cursed. “One left.” (This was hysterical!!))

“I think you’re enjoying this,” Dean growled, hearing the chuckle behind him.

“Just…shut up.” Sam gripped the last thorn in the tweezers and had to wiggle it free, groaning as Dean twitched under him. Finally, he got it loose and tossed it aside. “Thank God.”

Dean straightened, smiling that he could do it without something stabbing into his ass and turned to find his little brother beet red from the neck up and studiously not looking at him. Dean’s smile turned into an evil grin. He grabbed Sam in a hug and held him tight.

“Sammy, my hero!”  

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed and struggled to get loose but Dean held him tight. “Get off me!”

“I love you man!” Dean squeezed him tighter, enjoying the disgusted noises and making the hug as uncomfortable as possible for his squirming brother.

“Aw…aw, come on,” Sam groaned and closed his eyes. “Could you at least…pull your pants up? Oh, my God.”

Dean released him at last with a laugh and did pull his jeans back up, chuckling. “Suck it up, bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam glared at his brother’s grin. “Can we please go kill something now?”

Dean snorted and took his rifle up, handing Sam’s to him. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Sam gave himself a shake, working to wipe the image of Dean’s bare ass out of his mind and followed after him. He stumbled to a stop when it hit him as he watched Dean reach up to his chest again; his amulet hadn’t dug into Sam’s chest when he’d hugged him. It always poked him in the chest but this time…it hadn’t. Sam’s jaw dropped as he realized what was off about Dean -- he’d lost the amulet.

“Hey, pokey! You takin’ a nap back there?” Dean turned and waved an arm at Sam who seemed to shake himself and quickly catch up.

“No, no. Sorry.” Sam looked at Dean and smiled softly, warmed by the knowledge that his big brother was sorely missing the presence of the amulet Sam had given him so long ago.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Dean glared at him and the ridiculous, affectionate expression on Sam’s face.

“Huh? Nothing. It’s just…nothing.” Sam smiled and went ahead of him, knowing if he pointed it out it would just piss him off.

“Yeah, well…knock it off.” Dean shook his head and went after him. The hug had done one thing for him; it had let him know Sam was still cooking a temperature and, as usual, not mentioning it. “Stubborn jackass,” He muttered.

Sam stopped and cocked his head. “You hear that?” He looked up into the trees and brought the rifle up as they heard the clear screech of the creature from close by.

“That way!” Dean broke into a run with Sam on his heels. They could hear it crashing through the trees above, leaves falling in a trail ahead of them as it moved.

“Sounds like it’s after something,” Sam panted as he ran and kept his eyes up.

Dean skidded to a stop as the noise ceased. “What the hell? Did it take off?”

“No.” Sam strained his ears for any sound. He wasn’t sure why but he was sure it was still up there.

The creature dropped out of the trees not ten meters from them with a scream. They could no little more than turn to face it before it leaped and swept into them. Dean grunted with the impact and rolled off across the forest floor while Sam was knocked sideways. He struggled to his knees and saw Birdzilla rounding on Dean’s unprotected back. His brother was on his knees with one hand to his head and swayed, not completely with it.

“Dean!” Sam shouted. He sprinted the distance between them and shoved Dean to the side as the creature struck, its arm sending him spinning off and into the trunk of a tree. Sam slid to the ground with a thump and tried to breathe, his vision darkening as the creature screamed.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sylvie stood outside the little cabin, backed against the forest and took a deep breath to calm herself. She knew Jeanne was inside. It had belonged to her mother an age ago and her father had kept it in the family…for Jeanne. She climbed the steps and stood at the door, staring at it and the faded ‘welcome’ sign that hung askew on the old wood. She took out her gun, running a finger comfortably along the barrel before gripping it. She leaned back and kicked in the door, slamming it back against the wall behind it.

“That was easier twenty years ago,” Sylvie muttered and strode inside with the gun raised.

Jeanne sat indian-style on the floor in front of the fireplace and spun in surprise at the noise. “Who’s there?”

“We need to have a talk, Jeanne.” Sylvie took a few more steps into the cabin, eyes searching every corner and allowed herself to relax slightly. They were alone in the single room cabin.

“Sylvie.” Jeanne smiled suddenly and rose to her feet, blind eyes finding her godmother from the sound of her breathing. “Have you come to bring me back to the light? Make me see the error of my ways? I could make you see the error of yours.”

“This doesn’t have to end badly, Jeanne.” Sylvie spoke calmly but never lowered the gun. “You were a good person once. You can be again. This thing that’s happened to you, it doesn’t have to change you like this.”

“You think this is bad?” Jeanne shook her head. “This was the best thing that ever happened to me, Sylvie. I never saw clearly before my sight was taken and now…now the man with yellow eyes whispers such wonders to me in my dreams.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Things I will do, a destiny I can become.”

Sylvie shook her head, horrified at hearing the madness in the woman’s voice. “No one else has to die, Jeanne.”

Jeanne laughed. “Sorry, Sylvie. Too late for that. My pet is going to eat your pets.” She shrugged with a grin. “You really shouldn’t have sent Dean and his brother into the forest this morning.”

“Oh, God,” Sylvie breathed and stared as Jeanne laughed cheerfully. She straightened her shoulders, steeling herself and took careful aim. “I’m sorry I didn’t see this sooner…that I didn’t save you.” She pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot filled the cabin, and Sylvie watched sadly calm as Jeanne stumbled back, a look of shock on her face while blood blossomed on her chest. She fell back in a heap in front of the fire and lay still.

“I’m so sorry, Jeanne.” Sylvie lowered the gun and huffed a sad breath out as she looked on the body of her goddaughter.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam groaned and raised his head, trying hard not to give in to the urge to pass out. Dean was rolling to his knees a few feet away looking dazed still. Sam rolled his head and spotted his rifle to his right. He gripped the stock and pulled it back.

“Dean!” Sam called and shoved his rifle toward his brother with what little strength he had left.

Dean’s head whipped around at his brother’s voice. He reached out and caught the barrel of the rifle. “You alright?” Sam didn’t answer him but he nodded his head. Dean got to one foot and pulled the rifle to him, bracing it against his shoulder as he faced the agitated creature. “Alright Birdzilla.” He aimed and loosed a shot at it, hitting in the chest. It reared back with a scream, and Dean grinned, jacking another round into the chamber while the creature flapped and rose up into the air.

“Die already, dammit!” Dean yelled and brought the rifle up for another shot. He paused as it screamed again, seeming to falter in the air and dropped back to the ground as though disoriented. It was strange behavior. Dean shrugged and took his second shot. The bullet took it between the eyes. It keened loud enough to make Dean’s ears hurt and fell forward into the ground. The creature twitched once and went still; dead.

“Finally,” Dean nodded with a smile and lowered the rifle. He went to his brother and dropped down next to him where he still lay on his back. “You still alive?”

“Sadly,” Sam groaned and took another deep breath. “Knocked the wind out of me.”

Dean took his good arm and stood. “Come on. Gotta get back and see how Sylvie is.”

Sam nodded and let Dean pull him to his feet. He swayed and would have gone back down if not for Dean’s grip around his chest. “Crap.” He let his head fall forward on a gasp.

“Just cannot catch a break on this job, huh, Sammy?” Dean smiled sadly and propped him against his side.

“I’m good,” Sam insisted and even got his legs moving at the same time in a slow walk. His collision with the tree hadn’t done him any favors. He could feel the bruising starting along his chest where he’d struck. He curled his left arm along his stomach as his shoulder burned with fresh pain from the scratches.

Dean half pulled, half carried his brother back through the woods to the car while Sam insisted he was ‘fine’ the entire way. He helped Sam ease into the backseat and lay on his back before shutting the door and dashing around to slide behind the wheel. He was worried about Sylvie and what had happened with her goddaughter. Dean didn’t envy her having to deal with that and had a feeling he knew how it had turned out. Birdzilla had seemed to lose focus right at the end. Dean figured that last scream had been its master dying right before it did.

Sam laid in the backseat doing his best to breathe evenly through the pain across his chest. He’d be surprised if he hadn’t fractured a rib or three; it hurt that bad. He let his right arm drop off the seat to the floor, closing his eyes and then frowned as his knuckles brushed something hard. He felt around and brought his hand up. Sam grinned and tucked the item away in his pocket as they drove.

Dean squealed to a stop in Sylvie’s driveway and heaved a relieved breath when he saw her little car already there. He got out and opened the back door, helping Sam slide out and stand. “You make it to the house or do I have to carry you…again?”

“Bite me.” Sam slapped his arm and then slid his own over Dean’s shoulders. They limped up to the front door and Sam stopped. “By the way…”

Dean watched as Sam dug something out of his pocket and held it up. Dean’s eyes widened in surprise as he saw his amulet drop from Sam’s fingers. “Where’d you find it?” He took it and slipped the thong over his head, grinning as the familiar weight landed on his chest where it belonged.

“Back seat on the floor,” Sam said and smiled, just as happy to see it in its usual place.

Dean opened the door and blinked furiously. He would never admit just how happy he was to have it back. It had been like missing a piece of himself.

Sylvie came down the hall to them with a smile, though her face was sad. “What’s happened to him now?” She went to Sam and put a hand up to his face, frowning when she felt the start of another fever.

“Birdzilla got in one last smack,” Dean informed her and pulled his brother toward the stairs.

“Yes, get him up to bed.” Sylvie moved to let them pass. “I’ll bring something up to drink.”

“Sylvie?” Dean stopped to look at her. “You alright?”

Sylvie nodded. “I’m fine, Dean.” She straightened the apron at her waist and looked back up at him. “Jeanne won’t be threatening anyone again.”

Dean nodded. Neither he nor Sam said anything; there was nothing that needed to be said. He headed up the stairs with a quickly wilting Sam beside him. “Little further.”

Sam nodded but his mind was on Jeanne. Another child like him had turned evil and had to die. He couldn’t stop the wave of fear that swept through him for himself and for Dean. He let Dean lead him down the hall and shove him onto the bed, still too wrapped up in his own mind to pay attention, so he jumped when Dean’s hand hit the back of his head.

“Knock it off,” Dean said gruffly and watched Sam stare up at him.

Sam smiled and nodded, letting his head fall forward into his good hand. “Ok.”

“Good. Shirt.” Dean slapped his arm and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on the other bed. He considered sitting for a moment and changed his mind. The drive back had been a misery sitting. The thorns may have been gone, but his ass still felt like swiss cheese thanks to them.

“Dammit…little help here.” Sam groaned in irritation, unable to get his t-shirt off his bad shoulder.

Dean snorted and tugged it carefully off and then sighed, seeing his chest. “Damn, Sam.” A wide bruise was coming up across his chest from the tree he’d been thrown into. “Anything broken?”

“Can’t decide.” Sam suffered his big brother pressing along each rib up and down his chest, gasping a few times and sighed in relief when he finished.

“All in one piece, but you’re gonna be hurtin’ pretty soon.” Dean shook his head and smirked. “Get horizontal. I’ll find something for the pain.”

“I can handle it,” Sam swung his legs up to the bed and laid slowly back, holding his breath through the discomfort. “Been drugged enough, thanks.”

“Uh huh.” Dean rolled his eyes at him. “Fine.”

“How are you, Sam?” Sylvie asked as she came in with a tray and two mugs. She tsked on seeing his chest and sighed while Dean took the tray and set it down on the table between the beds. “Thanks, dear. Here, Sam.” She took one of the mugs and held it out to him. “Thought you might appreciate a cup of coffee.”

“Thank you.” Sam smiled and took the mug. He took a sip and puffed out a breath in surprise. “Whiskey?”

Sylvie chuckled and patted his arm. “Little something to take the edge off that.” She waved at his chest. “One for you too.” She handed the other mug to Dean and took a whiskey bottle from her apron, setting it on the tray. “How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s alright,” Sam assured her. He chuckled when Dean grabbed the whiskey bottle and added more to his own coffee. “Should have just brought him a shot glass.”

Sylvie laughed and rose. “I’ll leave you boys to it. Roast chicken for dinner tonight. Seemed appropriate, somehow.”

Dean made a happy noise at that. “Oh, hell, yeah.” He finished off his 120 proof coffee and set the mug aside. “You need anything? I’m taking a shower.”

“I’m good. Go.” Sam waved a hand at him and sipped at his own coffee.

Dean grabbed clean clothes from his duffel and went down the hall. He raised a brow when he found Sylvie waiting for him. “Sylvie?”

“Two things.” She said softly, making sure Sam wouldn’t overhear. “First, Jeanne said something about someone coming to her in her dreams. If that hasn’t started with Sam yet, you should be on the lookout for it.”

“In her dreams?” Dean asked, surprised. “He doesn’t dream. He has nightmares.”

Sylvie nodded. “Alright, probably nothing to worry about then. Second, I uh…spiked Sam’s coffee.” She smirked up at him. “I assumed he’d turn his nose up at being medicated and then assumed he’d probably need it anyway.” She patted Dean’s arm when he grinned at her and started past for the stairs.

“Sylvie…”

“I’m awesome. I know.” She laughed and went downstairs.

Dean grinned and shook his head. “I really like her.”

Sam felt his coffee mug slipping from his fingers and tried to catch it while fighting the urge to giggle. He frowned. What the hell was wrong with him? He rolled slightly and managed to get the mug on the table. His head swam a little and he snorted a soft laugh. He looked at the mug, focusing on it and suddenly he knew; they’d dosed his coffee.

“Son’fa’bitch,” Sam slurred. He growled angrily and flopped back into the bed. It didn’t help that his chest and shoulder were hurting less with the painkiller in his system. He didn’t like that they’d been right. He glared over at Dean’s bed and then at the whiskey bottle. His grimace turned into a smirk and he started chuckling

“Ok, Dean.” Sam sat up slowly, wobbling and leaned over his bed to look. He saw what he wanted; his bag tucked under the side. He chuckled and leaned down, overbalancing and ended up on his knees. He snorted and pulled his bag out. Sam rummaged through and found what he wanted in the bottom.

Dean walked back into the bedroom, toweling his hair dry and cursed to find Sam picking himself up off the floor. “Sam, what the hell?” He went over and reached down to his little brother who was actually giggling. “Geez, man. How much did Sylvie put in there?”

Sam groaned. “Aw, too soon!” He still held the tube of glue in his hand. He’d squeezed it too hard and had been about to try to wipe off what he squirted out to cover his hand. As Dean pulled him up, Sam reflexively took hold of his forearm. “Uh oh.”

“Dude, get back in bed. You’re high.” Dean shoved him back onto the bed. “Let go and lay down ya clingy girl.”

“Can’t.” Sam snickered.

“Yes, you can. Just lay down already.” Dean tried to take a step away but Sam kept his grip on his arm. “Dude, are you five?”

Sam’s snicker turned into a laugh and then he snorted. “Can’t.”

“What do you mean you…” Dean raised his right arm and Sam’s came with him. He looked at his brother’s other hand and groaned. “Tell me that’s not super glue again. Sammy?”

“Ok. I’s not…It’s not super glue again.” Sam tossed it onto the table and laughed while Dean tried to pry his now stuck hand from his arm. “Was gonna glue the bottle.”

“Well, you missed!” Dean yelled and pulled at Sam’s fingers. His hand was cemented to Dean’s arm. “We’re out of solvent, jackass! I had to use it all to get the damn beer bottle off last week!”

Sam fell back laughing, unable to comprehend the level of rage on Dean’s face in his drugged state.

“What is going on up here?” Sylvie came into the room and stared at them.

“Please tell me you have solvent around here somewhere?” Dean raised his arm and Sam’s hand. “College boy glued himself to me!”

Sylvie snorted. “Oh, my.” She clapped a hand over her mouth while Sam continued to laugh flat on his back and Dean glared death down at him. “Uh…I uh…no, actually.” She laughed into her hand and took a deep breath to try and contain it as Dean turned the death-glare on her. “I can get some, though.” She backed to the door as her laugh threatened to bubble up again. “Tomorrow. It’s Sunday. Small town. Nothing’s open.”

“Dammit!” Dean’s yell followed Sylvie and her laughter as she fled down the hall. “Sammy,” He growled down at his little brother and rolled his eyes. Sam’s laughter was slowly fading and he was heading quickly into a drugged sleep. “Son of a…I am gonna kill you. Swear to God.” He manhandled Sam around so he was lying on the bed properly, head on his pillow. It was more problematic than normal thanks to Sam’s hand being glued to his arm and his boneless state from the painkiller and whiskey.

“Now what the hell do I do?” Dean dropped to the side of the bed, hissed and stood back up. His backside was still tender and he rubbed his free hand over it, grimacing as his jeans rubbed at the thorn wounds. He looked down as Sam snickered and gave his arm a tug. “Shut up. You are not on my list of favorite people right now. I’m friggin’ tired, man!” He looked over at his own bed longingly and sighed. He looked back at Sam and slapped his free hand into his head. “You suck, Sam.”

Dean groaned again and climbed up on the bed and over his brother to the other side. It took some shifting but he ended up on his side with his right arm, attached to Sam’s hand, over his brother’s waist. It had been a comforting way to sleep when Sam had been a kid and Dean rolled his eyes at himself. “Guess this is one way to keep a damn eye on you,” He muttered to the back of Sam’s head, feeling the low grade fever warming him from Sam’s back.

Sam chuckled softly, sleepily and tugged on his brother’s arm. “We’re cuddling.”

“We are NOT cuddling, jackass!” Dean slapped the back of Sam’s head lightly, making him snort a laugh as the drug and the whiskey pulled him under to sleep. He shifted around, finding a comfortable position for his other arm and settled his head. He closed his eyes and listened to Sam who was breathing deeply. The sound lulled Dean to sleep as it had a thousand times as a child. His head rolled into the back of his little brother’s neck and he sighed, contented.

Sylvie peeked her head around the door and smiled softly at seeing the brothers curled up together, never mind it was because Sam, in his drugged state, had glued himself to his older brother. She snorted a soft laugh and looked down at the bottle of solvent she’d unearthed in the basement. “It can wait,” She said softly and pulled the door quietly closed on them.

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_The End._


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